


Breaking Belfast

by ClickClickBoom



Series: Scots & Ire [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Crude Humor, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, SAMBEL, Shit hits the fan in Belfast, True IRA, depictions of violence, mentions of abuse (rape/non con), shock/trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClickClickBoom/pseuds/ClickClickBoom
Summary: For the first time in nearly 14 years, Chibs sets foot in Belfast in an attempt to slip under Jimmy O’Phelan’s radar and see his girls. Things go very wrong, very quickly. An unexpected intervention helps the Reaper make a bloody, last-ditch escape.





	1. A Narrow Escape

**Author's Note:**

> **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 1:** A Narrow Escape  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford, Jimmy O’Phelan  
>  **Word Count:** 2,092  
>  **Synopsis:** For the first time in nearly 14 years, Chibs sets foot in Belfast, in an attempt to slip under Jimmy O’Phelan’s radar and see his girls. Things go very wrong, very quickly. An unexpected intervention helps the Reaper make a bloody, last-ditch escape. Set between Seasons 1  & 2.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language, Violence, Mentions of Death  
>  **Writer Notes:** Beginnings of a broader AU story arc. Maybe. Mostly the result of the writer plopping characters in the middle of the mess that is SAMCRO and/or asking "What would happen if...?" to see what sort of monkey wrenches this may throw in the gears. And hell… it’s fun. So why not.

The piercing shriek of a bullet tore past Kassidy's right leg, grazing flesh like a hot iron. Blood spattered to the ground and fire crackled its way through skin, muscle and bone. She screamed bloody murder. Her wounded leg seized and she went careening for the gravel, hands shredding as inertia skirt her forward upon the jagged, dusty ground.

She was certain she was dead. Gunfire and furious shouts, boot falls and the terror that racked her to her core all grew in concussive harmony - swelling her way. Kassidy couldn't move fast enough. She hadn't the strength or the wherewithal, or even the will.

Derek Sullivan was dead. Jimmy O'Phelan had seen everything. The True IRA was bearing down on her by the second. Kassidy had been too slow and far too careless; she had ruined everything. And now, she was going to die.

"Get up, kid!"

The hand that gripped the back of her jacket took a fist full of hair with it. A whole new shock of pain shook her to. Kassidy found herself torn upright and thrust forward, her legs fumbling to accommodate the momentum. She shrieked and cowered in fright as the tall, bloodied Scotsman pushed her ahead of himself. He reeled back, plugging a number of gunshots towards the Irish who were barreling down on them, before pushing her forward with him once more.

"Go!"

By the time they reached Derek's lamentable old Chevy, Kassidy was ready to wretch. Her head swam and her body quaked and her voice had all but left her. Somehow, in spite of the mess, she managed to claw her way into the cabin, ducking low against gunfire that shattered windows and scattered glass, and not only wrangle her keys from her coat, but saw the right one home into the ignition, as well. 

No sooner had she wrenched that key forward, sparking the engine to life, Kassidy tumbled back into the passengers seat in a heap. The Scotsman bore his boot into the gas pedal, sending them tearing up the road like a shot. He twisted around to watch O'Phelan and his crew begin to shrink from view behind them.

He hollered a rapturous roar, fist pounding the steering column as they soared onward. Kassidy shared no such exuberance. She opted for a white-knuckled grip upon the interior surrounding, heart booming, eyes bulging, and stomach rocking back and to, on the cusp of one hell of a ride.  
_________________

They rode in silence for nearly six miles. The truck tore up gritty back roads, dust pluming theatrically in their wake. Frozen struts proved useless against the farm country potholes that plagued their route to freedom. 

It was pitch dark that far out of the city, and the Scotsman had the wherewithal to keep the headlights deadened as they drove. The only light between them came from the blaring radio and the glowing embers of Filip Telford's cigarette, the latter of which flared bright against the chilly night air that cascaded in through opened windows and the luxurious pull he drew from it with each breath.

"What's your name, kid?" He finally hastened a glance her way.

"Kassidy Gael."

"Chibs," he said simply, billowing smoke.

"I know who you are, Mr. Telford," Kass shuttered sickly. The bow and jerk of the truck on top of a deluge of emotions was rendering her very ill, very quickly. She ignored the quirked eyebrow and sidelong glance he gave her at the use of his given name in favor of glaring at the darkened road ahead, "What I'd like to know is; Where are you taking us?"

"Some place safe," he assured. He leaned forward in his seat, squinting toward a small patch of lights and a single street lamp that rested a mile up the road, "but first we have to ditch this truck."

Without warning, he wrenched the steering wheel west. They went careening off the side of the road. The sheer momentum of their multi-ton steel encasement kept them barreling into the corn field by a solid 300 feet before the truck tapered to a stop. The moment it did, Kassidy tore out of the passenger's seat, scrambled out into the open and vomited gracelessly beside a nearby stump.

Kass wove her hands into lank blonde hair. She stayed huddled there on her haunches, gulping huge breaths of air, before the shuffling and fidgeting by the truck behind her got the better of her curiosity. She turned and stood just in time to see Chibs walking backwards towards her, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head and a fresh cigarette dangling unlit from his lips. With every step he let loose another length of the rope he held readily in one hand. As he reached her side, the unmistakable tang of gasoline flooded her nostrils.

"That building up the way," he said as he dropped the remainder of his rope to his feet and crouched beside it, "is a shitehole of a bar called Sigmead. Y'familliar?"

Kassidy shook her head, hugging her arms to her chest against a chill and a tremble that she couldn't seem to shake, "Not really. Don’t come out this way much."

"Consider it a blessing," he ribbed, before rifling through his coat pocket. He pulled a zippo from its depths and with a bit of fussing, fired the thing alight. 

With eyes adjusted to near-black, the little flame severed into the pits of Kassidy's eyes painfully. She pulled a nearly imperceptible gasp through her teeth as the light flashed across the man’s features. Dark eyes looked her way as firelight exemplified the gruesome depth of the scars - a Glasgow smile - upon his face, "I light this, this truck blows, we'll have a fair few minutes to get to that bar before the better part o' Conlig is ringin' an emergency. There's a solid chance Jimmy-O sees the blast even before then. We have to move quick."

"Why not just leave the truck alone?" Kass fussed.

"Have y'seen yourself, love?" 

Kassidy, dizzy and dazed, finally bothered to look down. It felt as though a rug had been yanked from beneath her. She stumbled back a pace, somehow only just registering her chill for what it was.  


She was sodden and wet - covered in blood.

"There's enough blood and prints in a dead man's truck t'land us both with proper authorities if TIRA were to find it whole, and it’s just like Jimmy-O turn us over n’ let us rot in jail. Kill us slowly," Chibs concluded. He ducked his head, tipping the business end of his cigarette into the lighter's flame with a sizable puff before pressing the fire to the tip of the rope in his hands. The moment it was ablaze he was on his feet again, pressing Kassidy away from the makeshift detonator bodily, "Shake a leg, lassie!"

“Shit,” Kassidy swore under her breath as she blundered forward as fast as she could manage after the Scot, “Shit shit shitshitshit.” 

Every step was agonizing. The thigh-high corn stalks whipped at her legs with every pace, and slowed her down twice over. She had to push two strides for the taller man’s every one as her head swam and her stomach churned with the threat of a looming dragon at their backs. All the while blood trickled determinedly down her leg, pooling into the sole of her shoe.

They were less than fifty feet away from Derek’s old truck when it finally blew. The explosion was so combustive - and so close - that it throttled her to the core of her belly. Heat licked her back, light seared her vision, and the bombastic noise of it sent her teetering forward and cowering in a panic, only for her leg to seize once more. Kassidy tumbled into the sea of maize, cursing and gripping the bullet wound tight.

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered weakly as the Scotsman rounded back on her for the second time that night, crouching low against the blazing firelight that was likely drawing eyes from miles around, “I don’t think I can--”

“Christ, kid,” Chibs swore as he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her hand away long enough to get a solid look at the still-seeping laceration, “Fuckin’ say somethin’ next time.” 

He looked up and about in a blatant watch for trouble as he jerked at the buckle of his belt and drew it swiftly from his jeans. Chibs ducked low, dwindling cigarette bobbing in his teeth as he looped the thing around Kassidy’s thigh just above the laceration. He pulled it tight, ignoring the defeated groan that escaped her at the pain. Twisting to shirk his jacket from his back, he pulled it around the withering girl’s shoulders. Kassidy snugged tightly into that heavy leather coat, stealing its warmth and addled by an unfamiliar mingling of cigarettes, sweat, cologne and motor oil.

“Y’stay put,” he said firmly, “Stay low. I’ll be right back.”

Kassidy managed a single, wide-eyed nod before Chibs took off in a broad sprint. The firelight dwindled at his back before the darkness swallowed him whole.

It was terrifying, suddenly being alone. Kassidy stooped low - nearly flush with the dirt below her - thankful for the corn stalks that swayed and bobbed in the wind. They encased her there, hiding her away, cocooning her from having to absorb the horrible vastness of that massive, foreign field, or the familiar truck that now swelled with flames, lying in as permanent state of ruin as its late owner. Her bones still trembled, and dread still gripped her heart in her chest, squeezing insufferably tight. She couldn’t shake it, couldn’t even imagine a semblance of calm. Not after what had just happened. Not after what she’d done.

She pulled the hands she’d wrapped rigidly at her belly and held them out into the firelight that trickled through the maize. They twitched and trembled there, palms shorn from her fall in the gravel near the docks… and they were sodden. The sleeves of her gray sweater shown black now, sullied and sagging grossly with blood. His blood.

“You bastard,” Kassidy quivered, emotions swelling, “You stupid fucking bastard. Oh God.”

The onset of a sob was choked outright as a sudden distant rumble flooded Kassidy’s senses. She felt it as much as she heard it, roaring quick and growing fast and barreling her way. Kassidy blinked back tears in a frantic attempt to clear her vision. She peered timidly over the top of the stalks that hid her before having the wherewithal to sit up as tall as she could manage so that she could be seen.

Chibs cut the Soft Tail through the field at breakneck speed, clipping his boots to the pedals and standing high to peer around as he glided on. The moment he caught sight of the girl bundled in the grass he hunched low again and gunned it. The roaring beast of a motorcycle circled tight around her once before stopping cold at her side, frightfully close.

“Get on!” he barked, arm outreached. 

Kassidy pulled on his jacket properly and struggled to stand, hand grabbing for his. The moment his grasp locked about her wrist, she was pulled up and over with little effort, her heart leaping in her chest at the sudden aid. Gripping his shoulder for support, she swung her good leg around to claim the seat behind him.

“Hold tight.”

As soon as he uttered the warning, they were off like a shot. Kass scrambled to grab Telford around his middle out of sheer fright. They bobbed and bucked through the field before skidding in gravel to peel their way back onto the rural country road.  


Her desperate attempts to cling for dear life were distracted by the sudden flash of light in the rear view mirror. Blue and white police lights flashed and whirred on the horizon to their backs, and the faint wail of a siren caught her ears on the wind from over the roar of the Harley at her loins. 

The thought of the authorities on their tails was somehow, on top of every other chaotic notion churning through her mind, the final piece to a puzzle that proved too much for her to handle. Exhausted and mortified by the entire night's happenstance, Kassidy pulled close to the stranger before her, and ducked her face to his back. With a tremble in her bones and a pang of panic in her belly, she tuned out completely.

  



	2. Stanfield Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs and his new charge find a place to stay hidden from the likes of Jimmy O. As he begins to clean up the mess he's made, it soon becomes clear that the mayhem surrounding his botched execution has landed him with far deeper complications than he ever would have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 2:** Stanfield Row  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford, Jimmy O’Phelan, Kerrianne Larkin, Fiona Larkin, Gemma Teller-Morrow  
>  **Word Count:** 5,142  
>  **Synopsis:** Chibs and his new charge find a place to stay hidden from the likes of Jimmy O. As he begins to clean up the mess he's made, it soon becomes clear that the mayhem surrounding his botched execution has landed him with far deeper complications than he ever would have imagined.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language, shock/trauma, Mentions of death, Mentions of abuse (Rape/Non-Con)  
>  **Writer Notes:** Thanks for the Kudos on the previous chapter, guys! That was a nice surprise. This chapter is a longer one, but an interesting exercise in trying to set up a particularly dysfunctional (albeit well meaning) relationship.

  


At the hands of Chibs Telford's manic back-road driving, the half hour drive from Conlig to the outskirts of Belfast was cut down to twenty. Having remained burrowed between the man and his bulky leather jacket the whole while, Kassidy finally peeked her way back out when they, for the first time since mounting their ride, ambled to a stop light at a wholly respectable speed. 

She swallowed hard, squinting wearily against pale street lamps and the chilly damp breeze. They had reached a sleepy, familiar suburb whose shops were closed and windows were deadened for the night. The sky was overcast and brown, and the sea of pavement that entrapped much of the city still glistened from the day's rainfall.

It seemed impossible not to look at every lingering shadow with a degree of suspect. Raw apprehension pressed her nerves as she sat back just enough to look around them. The streets were vacant at such an hour, sure... but experience told her that Belfast was owned by Jimmy O'Phelan. The bastard had eyes everywhere. It struck her as mad that they were encroaching upon the territory now. 

All the same, Telford had gotten them this far, and Kassidy, without question, had nowhere else to go. As the traffic light tumbled to green once more, Kass slipped her arms back around his middle.

Their journey came to an end at the edge of a narrow alleyway near Stanfield Row. Killing the engine, Chibs let momentum roll his bike beneath the eaves of the darkened side-entrance of an old apartment building, before they finally came to a stop.

"Still with me, Kassidy Gael?" He peered over his shoulder, past hair that had gone wild from the ride.

"Mostly," she nodded exhaustively.

"Define mostly."

"Not sure I can walk, mate." 

The fact that her leg had gone numb some ten minutes prior needled her as particularly worrisome.

A flame sparked before them. Chibs leaned forward against the dank alleyway breeze to light a fresh smoke. The scent of it flooded Kassidy's lungs and sharpened her wits a bit. He leaned back towards her then, enough so that she shied away in response. Chibs exhaled smoke as he mused, "Grab hold, kid. We've got four flights o' stairs ahead of us. C'mon."

Kass hesitated, before slipping one arm over his shoulder, and the other around at his chest.

"Christ!" she swore nervously as he stood, clipping his wrists beneath her knees and hoisting her right up with him. Her grip around his shoulders went from noncommittal to bear-trap in short order.

"Hang tight, sweetheart," he said quietly, wrestling keys from his hoodie, "You can rest soon."

The apartment building was as poorly lit as it was old. Chibs huffed their way up three levels, past flickering overheads and leaking pipes, rows of dingy lettered doors and cracking plaster walls, to the base of a final flight of stairs. He hovered there a moment to catch his breath, coughing slightly behind the cigarette in his lips.

"You smoke?" He asked over his shoulder suddenly.

"Aye?" 

"Terrible decision," he teased, before jerking his chin her way, "Take this fuckin' thing, would you?"

The moment Kassidy clipped the cigarette from his lips, Telford was off again, scaling the final flight of stairs. He unlocked and edged open the lone door there, flicking a switch that flooded the space with what little light a singular overhead bulb could muster.

Kassidy was fairly certain that the space had not originally been intended as an apartment. Comprised of a singular large, narrow room and adjoining bathroom, sloping vaulted ceilings, a makeshift kitchenette and tiny fireplace, she suspected the makings of an old storage attic rendered into an attempt to make a few extra bucks by the likes of the landlord.

Amidst frivolous observations, the space bucked and bowed in her vision. Her head swam viciously. Darkness was creeping its way in from her peripherals, which despite all exhaustion, shook her with fright. 

Kassidy's eyelids drooped wearily. With what seemed like all of a singular blink, her surroundings switched from the chilly, dim main room to the garish white fluorescence of a checker-tiled bathroom. 

Her head teetered dangerously towards blacking out as the Scotsman crouched and leaned, letting her slip to sit upon the floor. Clipping his cigarette back from her hand and placing it between his lips, Chibs grappled the torn leg of her trousers the moment she was settled. He ripped them open broadly before rushing his way out of the room.

Kass looked down to her leg, and her eyes went wide. In the pale, ugly light, her wound was black and seeping. Blood was everywhere. It sullied her clothes, matted the front of her sweater to her belly, smeared about her skin, caked in her nails, sloshed grotesquely in her shoe. There was so much blood... and most of it wasn't hers. The same insufferable tremble that had wracked her since Derek had crumpled to the floor, choking on the knife in his throat, captured Kassidy once more. The room tipped and her equilibrium bowed. She could feel herself slipping into a desperately craved darkness despite her mind screaming a warning to stay awake.

Another slow, singular blink changed the nature of her surroundings again. One moment she had slumped to lie her forehead to the cold tile floor in an otherwise empty room. The next, she was upright again, with familiar features on the face of a stranger looking her over with blatant worry.

"Focus, Kassy-girl," Chibs was saying, "I got you, kid. Just stay with me."

Kass watched the man rifle through the first aid kit that he'd opened by her side as she tried her damnedest to stay alert. Her hands shook and her head swooned still. Focus was murder, and worse yet, she was chilled to the bone. The whole thing rendered her completely afraid.

"The hell is wrong with me?" Kass heard herself mutter in a sob.

"You're in shock, baby," Chibs said pitiably as he clipped the cap off of a syringe with his teeth and sunk a needle into her leg not far from her wound. 

Kassidy swore at the pain, blinking tears and breathing deep.

"Shh-shh. I know. Hey," Telford leaned in, a hand coming to her jaw to steady her, "This is normal, alright? Completely normal - you'll be all right. You just went through one hell of a scare, your body's just tryin' t'compensate, that's all. Breathe, sweetheart."

As he spoke, a huge swatch of flesh upon her wounded leg trickled its way into a warm numbness - a proper numb, this time. Something about that relief mixed with the sincerity of his words and the familiarity of his eyes finally helped Kassidy find some semblance of calm - it helped her breathe. She nodded her compliance, eyes closing as he leaned to press a kiss to her forehead, before rifling through his kit once more.

“So, y’know who I am,” Chibs said some minutes later, as he tied the last of the sutures on Kassidy’s leg, and clipped the thread with surgical scissors, “Y’knew the name of O’Phelan’s lackey, and y’somehow knew either of us were going to be in the middle of a shipping yard at one in the AM. And you’re what, a seventeen year old kid?”

“Nineteen,” Kass corrected, fidgeting uncomfortably as he set to cleaning up blood and grime with an alcohol pad.

“A kid nonetheless,” he countered, before sitting back and watching her evenly, “Y’mind cluing me in as to how any of this is possible? No one finds the True IRA less they mean t’be found, love. And I don’t think that bastard back at the docks had a knife t’the throat in mind when he hauled my ass out there.”

Kass winced painfully at his words and looked away, her breath hitching in her chest. She closed her eyes tight.

“Shit,” she heard the Scotsman say after a moment, “Exactly how well did you know that bloke?”

Kassidy blinked tears, teeth clenching and brow furrowing as she glared at a nowhere-spot on the tiled floor, “Too well. His name was Derek Sullivan. He’s been Jimmy O’s right hand since Tanner Flynn got taken out about six years back.”

“And how the right fuck could you possibly know that?” 

Chibs was eyeballing her as though she’d sprouted a second head as a hat trick.

Kassidy finally managed eye contact with the Scot again, past lank hair that had fallen to guard miserable features. 

“Kassidy Gael Sullivan, mate,” she said with a sarcastic little wave in way of proper introduction, “Third generation brat o’the True IRA.” 

At that, she looked away. By the look on Chibs’ face he was already putting two and two together. He was growing terrifically pale. Kass soon confirmed his suspicions, “Derek was me Da.”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Telford sputtered. He looked sickened, and stammered in a loss for words. He moved to lean back against the cupboards behind him as his mind raced behind his eyes, “How---”

All Kassidy could manage was shaking her head. She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, or find the words to push past it if she’d wanted to. She was spent…. utterly done. Her fortitude was gone with her admission, and all she had left was the bird's nest of emotions that boiled, harried and furious, just beneath her skin. Dazed and doleful, her gaze returned to her blood-streaked hands. Stomach churning at the sight, she finally broke into tears, working feebly to pull blood-caked jewelry from grimy, trembling hands, “It’s fuckin’ everywhere. God, there’s so much, I can’t--”

She looked up like a startled deer as Chibs had suddenly stood, leaning around her to wrench the tap on the claw foot tub at her back. As the sound of cascading water flooded her senses, he placed a hand at her shoulder, “Out of the coat. C’mon, love.”

Kassidy complied, chest hitching with sobs. As he took his jacket, reaching over to hook it absently on the door, Kass caught sight of her sweater in full light, in all of its carnal glory: soaked through from top to tail in Derek Sullivan’s blood. 

Suddenly, she couldn't breath.

“Stop,” Chibs warned, “Christ, baby, don’ look at it.” 

He leaned her forward, one hand at her neck, the other grabbing at the hem at the small of her back, “Breathe. I mean it, kid. Breathe in.” 

As she pulled in a trembling sob, he yanked the sweater up over her head and off entirely, letting it fall in the nearby sink with a despicable schlup.

“Jeans too, sweetheart. It’s all gotta go. I’ll find y’something round here til I can get out and grab you somethin’ proper tomorrow, alright?” 

Kass caught his gaze at this, heart thrumming in her throat, trying to read him. He seemed to gather she was mortified at the idea of undressing any further with him there, “Can you manage on your own?”

“I don’t--” she made a legitimate attempt to try and stand at this, but her leg was deadened from the anesthetic. She slipped. 

Telford’s reflexes were the only thing that saved her from cracking her head on the rim of the cast-iron tub. 

He sighed as she hitched in sobs anew, before reaching for her fly. She nearly jumped a foot when he did so, however, and he was quick to pull away, “It’s all right. You get it, kid. I’m just here t’help.” He moved to pull off her trainers and socks instead, tossing those too in the sink.

She unbuttoned and unzipped before fussing futilely with the hem. By then, the Scotsman had returned to lean over her proper, watching her struggle. Moments later, she relented.

“Alright. Arms ‘round me neck. Tight, now,” he said quietly. After a moment’s timid hesitation, Kassidy obeyed. In the same swift motion, he stood up a number of degrees, pulling her up from the floor just enough to pull her trousers down, and left her to rest once more as he turned to dispose of them with the rest of her ruined attire.

Kassidy pulled her knees up to her chin as he leaned over her to test the water in the faucet. She ducked the crucifix he wore around his neck as it swung very near her head. The moment temperatures met his approval, Kassidy found herself lifted bodily, and lowered to sit in the tub, underclothes and all. 

“No, knee up,” he said, giving her leg a pat before he pulled down the detachable shower head - the one proper modern fixture in the room, it seemed - and twisted the lever that switched the water flow from bath to shower, “We’ll fill up in a minute, but those stitches need to stay dry.”

Kass complied wearily, just as the Scot trained the water to her back, commandeering a handful of her hair carefully and working bloodied mats clean. Crimson snaked its way to swirl around the drain, and Kassidy closed her eyes against the sight. 

She cried quietly the whole while, sick and tired and unable to shake anxiety that ran her ragged. The water was warm and her company was proving a safe zone, however - moreso by the minute. By the time Chibs switched the faucet back and stoppered the tub, tipping a bottle of shampoo into the tumble of water to kick up some bubbles (and, as a result, some privacy) Kassidy had finally managed to recollect her composure. She lie back, arms hugged to her chest and knee raised obediently as the tub filled. While she shivered still, the horrible cold that had been plaguing her since the docks was finally ebbing away.

“All right?” 

Eyes opening when she heard him speak, Kass looked up to find him wavering by the door.

She nodded, noting quietly, “Thank you.”

Chibs scoffed, shaking his head sadly as he wandered out of the room, “Thank me? Thank you, kid. Christ.”

He rummaged around that tiny apartment for nearly twenty minutes, returning to the bathroom once to kill the faucet and place a towel on the shelf nearby before disappearing into the main room again. Before long, Kass noticed that the dim light outside the bathroom door was accompanied by the warmth and flicker of firelight. The smell of burning oak caught her senses, mingling with the Scotsman’s latest cigarette. That scent soon altered, however, as a new, unnatural odor encroached upon the rest.

“What’s burning?” Kass asked timidly as Chibs made his way back into the loo. 

“Pair o’ jeans, at the moment,” he said simply. She supposed her question answered itself, given his current state. He’d re-appeared in a tank top and a pair of cotton track pants, bare feet wandering to the sink as he used his black hoodie to pick up the sodden clothes in the basin, “These, in a minute. I think the ride over at least got ‘em near dry enough to burn.”

“So, anything with blood?”

“Anything with blood,” he confirmed, before nodding to the jacket he’d hung on the door, “Save for me coat. That’ll hose out. Always does.”

Kass ducked lower in the water at this, the bubbles coming up to her collarbone before she wrangled the clasp at her spine, shirked off what had been, that very morning, a perfectly white bra, and rang it out. She extended an arm to hold it out his way, “For a smoke?”

Chibs padded over, leaning down enough that Kass was able to pluck the cigarette from his mouth. He acquiesced her garment soon after, and wandered back out of sight. “Much obliged.” 

Before long, Kassidy was on her second smoke. Chibs sat on the floor across the way, lighting a new cigarette of his own and leaning back against the wall. The bathroom’s tiny, lamentable excuse for a window had been edged open between them, in hopes of not setting off every fire alarm in the complex as, between their cigarettes and the damp, smoldering linens in the other room, they were kicking up quite the fuss.

A moment stretched on before Kassidy realized she’d been lying there, watching the man move. He’d caught on to her staring before she did, and grinned awkwardly, “What?”

Kass was quick to look away, embarrassed, “Christ, sorry.” She leaned back, head resting on the sloped back of the tub as she took another weary pull from her cigarette. “You two just look so much alike. It’s kind of cool, really. I always thought she looked just like her mum.”

“Who does? You--” Chibs leaned forward at this, elbows to his knees. His brown eyes were suddenly alight with recognition, “You know Kerrianne?”

“Aye,” Kassidy exhaled smoke, “I know Kerrianne. For a long while, actually - since we were kids." 

She glanced his way to find Telford looking utterly intrigued by the news. Kass couldn't help but smile a little before elaborating, "Her mum tried steerin’ her clear o’ me for the longest time, ‘cause I mean we’re what, almost four years apart? And I had an arrest record by the time I was thirteen, to be fair. But I got held back a few grades, and we ended up in Primaries together. Been mates since.”

Chibs leaned back once more. His mind raced a marathon behind his eyes, “No shit.”

“She’s a beautiful human being, your girl,” Kass said quietly, her eyes drifting to the beams upon the ceiling overhead, “Been there for me more n’ most. Frankly she’s the only proper family I’ve had in a good long while - I’d do anything for her,” Kass eyeballed the business end of her cigarette for a moment, before casting him a look again, “Which, no offense to your own persons, Mr. Telford, is the only reason I was in that warehouse to begin with.”

“Fair enough,” he said evenly. Shaking his head incredulously a moment later, he added, “And callin’ me Chibs is fine, love. I’m her Da, not her attorney.”

Kass had to smirk at that, “Would love to tell that to her stepfather. That motherfucker won’t have anyone callin’ him a hair shy o’ _Mister O’Phelan_. You should have seen the look on his face when he caught wind of me callin’ him Jimmy Tight-O behind his back.”

What was intended as a joke fell flat. Chibs’ expression had fallen remarkably sullen at the mention of O’Phelan. Kass caught on quickly enough and derailed the topic entirely. “Chibs, though. Honestly, what asshole gave you that name?”

Chibs jerked his chin up at her, an ornery spark igniting in his eyes, “ _This_ asshole. Suppose I figured on beatin’ some other asshole to the punch.”

Kass managed a tired little laugh. She gave him a sidelong glance, “Your given name is Filip, isn’t it?”

He nodded, watching her curiously, “Aye.”

Kassidy leaned back once more, “Now, Filip I like.”

“Then Filip’ll do.”

“She wanted to see you,” Kassidy piped up after a fair bit of exhausted, thought-muddled silence had stretched between them, “Kerri wanted you to know that.”

Chibs looked up at the news, and his brow furrowed in confusion, “What?”

“The other day,” Kass clarified, “She wanted to go when Miss Larkin slipped out to see you, but her mum wouldn’t have it - said she wanted to make sure seein’ you was safe first. I think Fiona had a pretty good feelin’ that Jimmy-O was havin’ her trailed. Wanted to see you, but didn’t want to risk getting Kerrianne hurt in case she was right.”

“Jesus, Fi,” Chibs muttered, face screwing with worry, “That’s how Jimmy found out I was in town, then. Trackin’ down Fiona the day of?”

“Lou Dorian found out,” Kass confirmed, “He’d been the one Jimmy had trailin’ her. Saw you two meet up in Carrickfergus. Reported back.”

Telford processed this, his expression growing more shaken by the minute as he did.

“Jimmy,” he looked to Kass, dead serious, “He didn’t hurt her? When he found out - when she got home… Fi - he didn’t--”

“Nah, mate,” Kass said quietly, as Chibs shuddered a sigh, “Not like you're thinking. I think he was savin’ that tough love for you. They got in one hell of a screamin’ match though. From what I was told, Jimmy didn’t threaten her, he was trying to rattle her by threatenin’ you.” 

Kass watched as the Scotsman grew darker with her words. His temples twitched and his fists clenched absently. She couldn’t help but sink down a bit further into the water as she pressed on. 

“Kerri overheard the lot of it. Called me absolutely panicking that Jimmy was going to finally have you gutted. Fiona was wrecked. Apparently kept goin’ on and saying it was all her fault. Kerrianne… I think she knew what it’d do to her ma especially, you getting killed, and she asked me to…” Kassidy winced, struggling to muddle together words against racing thoughts, “That if I heard anything - if there was any way I could figure out where you might be - to let her know so she could try and warn you. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t let her risk that. Get herself killed.”

“How’d she even figure you’d know where to find me?” Chibs asked skeptically.

“I think she was reaching a bit, to be fair,” Kass shrugged, “She was desperate. I started helping Da’s boys with some of their lighter runs in the past year, though, so I think she was hopin’ I’d overhear something. The lot of ‘em - Derek especially - have always had this habit of talkin’ like I’m not even in the room. Guess they figured I was too under thumb to be a threat or some shite. I’m still just a stupid fuckin’ kid, y'know?”

“Stupid my white arse,” Chibs said squarely, before going for paydirt, “So how did you hear?”

“Luck,” Kass admittedly coldly, “I shit you not. Was wrappin’ up assembly with some of the boys at the warehouse north o’ Newtownards. He got a call from one of his contacts and I slipped off to listen in. Found out you were at that bar near Conlig. He took off on his own, because he’s just that sort of a stupid, greedy cockrag. I followed. Watched the whole shite go down - him crackin’ you one, tossin’ you in the truck, tearin’ off - but the docks were the first and last real chance I had to do anything.” 

The pure weight of the day’s chaos was ebbing its way back upon Kassidy’s chest then, in all of its crushing obscenity. For the life of her, she couldn't hold back the tears when they returned. She was too damned tired.

“Kass…” Chibs said sadly when he realized she’d lost composure again.

“It was too easy,” Kassidy cried quietly, unable to look him in the face, “It shouldn’t have been that fuckin’ easy. But I wanted it. Christ… I wanted him dead. The fuck is even wrong with me?”

Chibs was watching her with a guarded, knowing expression. He shook his head after a moment, choosing his words with obvious care, “Nobody ever just wants to kill their Da, Kassy-girl... What did he do?”

Lying back in that tub, red eyed and miserable, Kassidy finally locked eyes with him. So many things struck her at once… That his eyes were Kerrianne’s. Unlike his daughter’s bright, open gaze, his held the weight of the trials of ten men combined… but they were so alike, all the same. It also rattled her heavily that this man, aside from Jimmy-O and his boys, was the only knowing witness to what she’d done… and then, he was the only one on her side. She needed to keep him that way, and if he knew, if he could understand why…

More than anything, though, Kassidy was painfully aware that she’d already forfeited any claim she’d had to secrecy with this man. She’d lost it the moment she’d sunk a blade hilt-deep into Derek Sullivan’s neck all of three feet from where Telford himself had nearly been killed. 

She had to tell him. Whatever fraction of the truth she could muster, he needed to know. If nothing else, aside from some hope that friendship with his daughter would sway him, he needed all the reason she could muster to convince him to keep her safe, because alone, Kassidy knew quite well she was as good as dead.

“Me mum and little brother got taken out when I was about eight. Car bomb that was meant for Derek. It completely fucked him over. He was never wound too tight to begin with, but after that...” Kass could feel herself tuning out as she spoke, growing numb. It was a favorite old hat trick - One she, ironically, owed to her late father, “He was drop out drunk for months straight after, before Jimmy-O pulled ‘im up by his ear. Gave him purpose again… gave him more things to kill’s more like it. An’ where that didn’t suffice,” Kassidy closed her eyes, trying to breathe, “He wasn’t home much, but when he showed up, the son of a bitch started findin’ more use for me than just a convenient punchin’ bag. Kept at it ‘til I was about twelve - old enough to run away and stay away whenever his work was slow.”

“Shit,” Chibs managed. “Sorry.”

Kassidy couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face. Her words were lingering in the air like poison, eroding every ounce of calm she’d mustered in the past many minutes. She was beyond anxiety now, though. Beyond distraught. She felt hollow. Spent.

The strike of metal to flint and flare of a flame in her peripherals told her he’d lit another smoke. Embers flared in her vision as he breathed in deep, and exhaled an unsteady sigh.

“There are more than a few souls who don’t deserve the time they’ve been given on this earth,” Chibs said then, oddly quiet. “He was no man, let alone one that deserved his time here. He got what he deserved, exactly who he deserved it by, didn’t he, now?”

Kassidy locked eyes with the Scot. Her expression must have looked as wrecked as she felt; It sent Chibs crawling to his feet and wading her way.

He reached into the water at her feet and yanked out the stopper before pulling a towel from the shelf and setting it to rest at her shoulder, “Let it drain. Get covered up. Call me when you’re ready an’ I’ll help you out. Y'need rest, kid.”

“Curfew, huh?” 

“Curfew,” He mused softly. 

To her credit, Kassidy made a legitimate attempt to stand on her own once he'd gone. She barely got beyond a solid grip upon the lip of the tub at her sides and a bumbling attempt to pull her legs beneath her before realizing one of those legs was still thoroughly numb. She slipped back down on her bum.

“Scotsman!” she fussed, unfurling her towel and draping it across her front like a blanket, “What the hell did you do to my leg?”

“Why, what happened?” Chibs strode in, looking concerned. A single glance at the girl, however, assured him that she was still in one piece.

“It has forgotten how to leg.” The statement was just ridiculous enough to get Kassidy to attempt a smile. That smile faltered with nerves, however, as Telford leaned in over her.

“It’ll remember how just fine in the mornin’, and you’ll be wishin’ to hell that it didn’t. C’mon,” he wrapped one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. Without a thought further, he lifted her and wandered into the other room. She was left to rest on the edge of the pull-out sofa bed with a bundle of clothes at her side. Chibs made for his seat by the fireplace then, his back to her, a shotglass of something thick and dark in one hand, and a fire poker in the other as he teased the flames to life.

Kass pulled on the baggy tshirt with landmark speed before unfurling the equally too-big plaid pajama pants. Being seated a ways up from the ground, and without slippery tiles to hinder her traction, she was able to wrestle them on with relative ease, leaning back and using her good leg to hoist herself up. She settled the hem about her waist before cinching the draw-strings and tying them tight.

Chibs, meanwhile, threw back another shot of single malt before hastening a glance back over his shoulder, “Alright?”

Kass was scruffing her wet hair about with the towel by then, and peered out from under the kerfuffle with one eye, “Aye. We’re good.”

She saw the Scotsman smile and stand, leaving his shot glass and bottle on the mantle. Kass jumped a bit when, a moment later, the mattress at her side dipped with his weight. She dropped her towel hurriedly to find him fiddling with a box of bandages and a roll of tape.

“Best to cover those stitches o’er the next few days. Keep ‘em clean. Up,” he motioned for her to bring her leg his way. Kassidy shifted her weight obediently. Chibs had little trouble working an oversized pant leg up mid-thigh, and the elastic around the material’s end assured that it stayed there.

Kassidy yawned broadly as he unloaded a sizable portion of a tube of antibiotic ointment along her newly acquired stitches. She was bone-weary, and the longer she sat there in warm, dry clothes, surrounded by the dance of firelight and the allure of bed things, the faster she faded away. Before long, her eyelids had grown heavy and, she was relieved to note, her racing thoughts seemed to have tapered into silence, defeated by pure enervation.

“Kassy-girl.”

Kassidy’s eyes shot open to discover that she’d nodded off on Chibs’s shoulder, “Christ.”

“You’re all right,” he chuckled as she pressed her hand to her forehead woozily. He reached back to grab one of the thick quilts piled at the end of the bed, “Lay down, kid.”

The moment her head hit the pillow, she could feel herself slipping. Kassidy barely registered the heavy blanket that settled over her or the hand that fell to rest upon the back of her head before the Scotsman wandered away. To the last of her recollection that night, Chibs had settled back into the lumpy old desk chair by the fire across the way. He sunk low where he sat, his head at rest in one hand as he held a cellphone to his opposite ear. Beyond the crackling fire, a murmur piqued from over the line as someone answered his call.

“Gemma?” he said quietly, before shuttering a sigh, “Mother, I’ve made one hell of a mess.”

  



	3. Patron Saint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Kassidy makes the first of many life-altering decisions looming her way. Chibs, meanwhile, plans their escape from Northern Ireland.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 3:** Patron Saint  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford, Clay Morrow, Jimmy O’Phelan, Kerrianne Larkin  
>  **Word Count:** 1,606  
>  **Synopsis:** Kassidy makes the first of many life-altering decisions looming her way. Chibs, meanwhile, plans their escape from Northern Ireland.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language, shock/trauma, Mentions of death  
>  **Writer's notes:** A little time with Kassidy. Chibs returns next Chapter. ;)  
> 

That first night in hiding, Kassidy Gael slept like the dead. Dreamless, motionless and dark, her mind stayed hidden and guarded to an extreme she had not managed since the peaceful passivity of childhood.

Waking up was another matter entirely. Consciousness struck her like a slap in the face. Her eyes flew wide. Her chest hitched in panic, and her brain screamed in recollection of the night prior’s sordid chain of events. Hands came to her mouth in sheer horror of those memories, and for a good many minutes, she lie beneath heavy, musty blankets racked with tears and well-muffled sobs.

Kass breathed in deep before long - so broadly that it made her dizzy and nearly hurt. The exercise - a self-taught, familiar one - had its intended effect. The strangulating grip that anxiety held upon the pit of her chest loosened just enough to become bearable. Tears dwindled and sickening panic was forced back into a tight, perfectly packaged little bundle of numbness.

Head on as straight as she could manage, Kassidy pulled her blankets down from her face a ways, emerging from the cocoon they’d created around her in the night. Chibs was nowhere to be found. This was hardly surprising, granted. By the bright light streaming in through the far window, it was late in the afternoon. Evidence of his presence that morning, however, lie scattered about everywhere.

“Mother o’ Christ, how hard did I sleep?” she murmured fretfully the moment she glanced to her left. There, a pillow lie ruffled and another quilt lie tossed aside. Telford had slept beside her through the night, and she hadn’t a clue he was there the whole while. 

Kassidy found herself torn between deeply unnerved by her lack of vigilance - she had never been so worn that she wasn’t on edge when she slept, not in over a decade - and appreciative of the fact that his bed things had been relegated as far to the opposite edge of the mattress as one could manage and still remain comfortable.

The coffee machine sat cold with a half-full pot of brew. Kass spotted his track pants slung across the back of one of the chairs from the tiny dinette set by the front door. A number of bags were strewn upon the table, most from a nearby carry-out that she knew to be open at all hours.

She noticed a bottle of prescription pain pills and a glass of water upon the bedside table to her right. A singular attempt at sitting up to claim them made it brutally apparent why Telford had left them there to begin with. It felt as though her leg was on fire.

"Shit," she clapped a hand over her mouth the moment she was upright. The pain settled straight to her gut, churning it like a pinwheel. Feeling clammy and peaked, Kass snatched the bottle and eyed it over.

She wasn't certain whose OxyContin they were - the intended patient's name had been blackened out - but she couldn't help but give a sarcastic little salute to whomever was going without.

"A valiant sacrifice, bless," Kassidy muttered as she wrangled the prescribed dosage from the stubborn little container and popped it in her mouth, "Unless you're over 70. Then I just feel like a dick. Albeit a stoned dick, if I'm lucky."

She tilted her head and squint curiously as she grabbed for her glass of water. Beneath it had been placed a hand-scrawled note.

"Aww, love. That handwriting is atrocious," Kass mused as she snatched the letter with her unencumbered hand. She eyeballed it with a bit of effort.

_Kass -_

_Rest well, kid. This'll be the only day for it. Big decisions need to be talked out and decided upon tonight. Got a few options in mind. None of them easy, but they’ll keep us both breathing._

_Will be out testing what few contacts I still have out here. I can't come back til after dark - not worth the risk. Food and clothes on the table. Hair dye - pick your poison. When we have to move, the change will help._

_There's a prepaid phone with the lot. Got one on me - my number and a few others are on the back of this note. If you can't reach me by tomorrow morning, phone Eli McCraig. Old friend - same bloke who owns this building and the bike I'm on. You can trust him. If all goes to shit, call Clay Morrow, tell him who you are up front. No one else til I get back._

_Do not call Kerrianne._

_Stay here, stay hidden. You saved my ass. I intend to return the favor._

_-C_

Even if she’d had the drive to leave that tiny attic apartment - had her life and circle of acquaintances not been so deeply entrenched in True IRA connections that there was literally no one she could turn to, nowhere familiar she could go that wouldn't tip off Jimmy-O to her presence - There was no way Kassidy could have made it down four flights of stairs, let alone hoof it to the nearest tram. Of that, she was certain. Her leg simply wouldn't allow it.

It took the better part of an hour for the medication to truly do attempts at movement any justice. Even thereafter, her steps lumbered along at a snail's pace, and the pain had her sweating cold and wincing every time a muscle strained and her heel hit the floor in stride.

Despite all discomfort, however, Kassidy was determined to keep occupied. She knew it a terrible risk to allow herself time to sit and think. To grieve. To panic, and worst of all, to fear... And she was deeply afraid. Dwelling on that notion - giving into it in any capacity - would debilitate her; addle her mind and fog her judgement, and that, given the circumstances, was the last thing she needed.

Kassidy huffed a sigh and bit firmly against the angry throb in her thigh. Finding her footing and adjusting her stance where she stood, she squared her shoulders and made the arduous, albeit tiny, trek to the table by the door.

The Scotsman had been busy. 

Food - mostly canned goods, a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jam and a pack of soda - was packed tightly into a Vivo paper bag. A military-grade rucksack had been encumbered with what looked to be someone not far from her own build's used clothes - multiple pairs of black socks, two pairs of dark jeans, two tshirts, a slim flannel button-up and a touristy looking black hoodie emblazoned with ‘Dublin’ on the front. 

There was a glock buried at the bottom of that rucksack. The gun had a fresh clip and its serial number had been filed. Half a dozen additional clips clamored around the bottom of the bag beneath it. Kassidy clipped the weapon into the back of her pajama trousers before piling her newly acquired clothing back atop the ammo.

Another bag had come from a local carry-out. It was packed tight with toiletries for two - toothbrushes, toothpaste, toilet paper, soap and shampoo, two wash rags and a singular towel.

"Jesus Christ, he's serious," she murmured as she ran a hand over the rucksack weirdly. Her heart fluttered and her head swooned. The moment she was trapped in - and the realization that came with it - felt totally surreal.

She knew Belfast was a death trap now - had known from the moment she'd sunk that blade into Derek Sullivan's neck. There wasn't anywhere in Northern Ireland she'd be able to hide for long. The depth of influence and pervasiveness of reach the True IRA held there was too great to allow it.

Kass knew she would have to run, but she had no idea where to. Where could she possibly go? How far away was far enough to really be safe? Kassidy had no idea. Belfast was all she had ever known. It was her home.

Was.

And now she had no choice. 

She had to run.

"Don't even fucking start, you idiot, or you'll never stop," Kass cursed herself from behind eyes clouded with tears. She mopped her face viciously with the collar of Telford's old tshirt and swallowed hard, before fumbling through a final carry-out bag in way of distraction.

Black. Brunette. Ginger.

Kassidy lined each box of hair dye Chibs had purchased in a meticulous little line upon the table before her. She snatched the fourth and final box from the bag - a carton of cigarettes - and slumped back in her chair with a glower. The carton had already been opened and was missing one of its packages. In its place, the Scot had placed a new Zippo lighter. Kass snatched it and a pack of smokes of her own, before tossing the carton aside.

"Saint Jude..." She muttered to herself as she turned the Zippo around in her hand; The little contraption had one of the countless catholic saints emblazoned upon its side. It had taken her a moment, but her short stint in a catholic boarding school paid off for quite possibly the first time ever. She recognized both the saint, and his patronage... and she couldn't help but smile and shake her head the moment she did.

"Patron saint of lost causes, huh?" She mused, "Nice touch, old man."

Lighting a smoke and dragging in deep, she eyeballed her choices in hair dye with a baleful grimace. After a great deal of consideration, she clipped the dark brown dye from the lot and crawled to her feet using the table as leverage.

"Whelp," Kassidy groused, turning to hobble towards the loo, "Here goes nothing."

  



	4. Sons of Anarchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs enlists the help of an old friend. Kassidy, meanwhile, is startled to discover where the Scotsman’s loyalties lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 4:** Sons of Anarchy  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford, Jimmy O’Phelan, Clay Morrow  
>  **Word Count:** 3,352  
>  **Synopsis:** Chibs enlists the help of an old friend. Kassidy, meanwhile, is startled to discover where the Scotsman’s loyalties lie.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language  
>  **Writer's Notes:** Thought it would be fun to explore the idea of folks that were in Chibs' life prior to his getting run out of Northern Ireland by Jimmy O - particularly those with the stones to act in defiance of either SAMBEL or the True IRA. This chapter kicks off some of that exploration. Also, thanks for the encouragement on previous chapters! Made my day ♥  
> 

  


By nightfall, Kassidy was a brunette again for the first time in nearly a decade. Her new rucksack was arranged and packed properly. Its ammo, clothes and toiletries lie in their own designated spaces with room to spare. She’d collected what clothes she could find of Chibs’ as well, most of which were dirty, and washed them in the tub. They hung drying near the cracked-open window in the main room. 

Telford had recovered her switchblade from her jeans pocket the night prior. In all of the chaos, Kass had nearly forgotten she’d even had the sense to retrieve it from the warehouse floor when they fled. A large part of her wasn’t sure she was glad she had, either.  


Discovering the weapon at rest in the bathroom sink soaking in a pool of bleach had been the one major hitch in her efforts to keep her head on straight that day.

Kass completely lost her composure over the discovery. 30 minutes, a solid bought of dry-heaving, tears and a punched wall later, she forced herself to grapple the thing and give it a proper cleaning. Somehow reclaiming it did the trick. It became just a blade again. Just a tool. She dried it, sheathed it, crammed into her bag and out of sight.

By nightfall, as the street lamp outside the apartment flickered to life, the bathroom, which had been found still-bloodied that morning, was bleached from top to tail. Midnight oversaw the scrubbing of her last bit of tiling and grout. 

Kassidy hung her rags and towel to dry over the lip of the tub. Suitably exhausted and equally sore, she leaned back against the toilet, pulling her hair from her neck and dragging a calming pull from the cigarette at her lips. 

Her eyes watered and her lungs burned against fumes from the bleach. Her hands were pruned, but her nails were finally completely free of Derek’s blood. Setting her clamshell phone upon the floor at her side to keep track of the time, Kassidy pulled her glock from the hem of her new pair of jeans, and had just begun giving the thing a proper once-over when the rumble of a Harley-Davidson trickled in through the window.

She looked up with a start, blue eyes wide and ears piqued. A labored limp brought her to the window in the main room. By the time she inched the shutter open enough to peer her way out into the darkness, she was greeted with a veritable symphony of rumbling racket and the sight of not one motorcycle... but two.

Kassidy lurched back a ways to hide, her eyes squinting and stomach hitching to match. One motorcycle she recognized as the bike she’d rode with the Scotsman… the other, however, was a new intrusion entirely. As quickly as they’d pulled into the parkway, the riders rolled out of sight and into the nearest ally.

At best, Kass was apprehensive. The idea of someone new - anyone at all - being made aware of her hide-away made her skin crawl. Panic welled in the pit of her chest despite all effort to keep it down. By the time she could make out voices and footfalls in the stairwell outside, Kassidy stood poised beneath the doorwell of the bathroom, a cigarette in her mouth and a glock in her hands outstretched and aimed squarely at the door.

Keys rattled and the doorknob wrenched. Panic spiked as she made eye contact with the stranger who stepped inside.

“The _fuck_ are you?” Kass spat fiercely, gun raised with a steady aim.

“Christ!” The man practically tripped himself as he bumbled back outside, green eyes wide. Kassidy could hear him chuckle from outside the door. “She’s a right spirited one, isn’t she now? And y’gave the batty wee bitch a gun?”

“This batty wee bitch’ll blow your mincy wee nuts off, old man. Who th’fuck are you?” Kassidy pressed. Her aim faltered, however, the moment Chibs slipped past his comrade and into the room.

“Stop,” he said crossly, striding her way. He motioned for her to hand over the glock with the twitch of two fingers, hand outstretched.

Despite being wholly on-edge, Kassidy relented. Chibs uncocked the glock the moment it was in his grasp and slipped it beneath his belt at his back. He hooked a hand to the back of her head then, and pulled her close, “Relax, kid. That seedy bastard’s Eli McCraig. He’s just here t’help us out. One of the few with the balls to try.”

“Pleasure.” McCraig grinned wolfishly from beneath a tattered canvas flat cap as he finally made his way inside. 

“Right,” Kassidy fidgeted awkwardly at the news. She made an embarrassed half-attempt at a smile towards McCraig as Chibs let her go, “Sorry, mate.”

“No worries, lass,” McCraig shrugged kindly, “Jimmy-O tends t’have the best of us twitchin’ ‘round a hair trigger."

Tall and impossibly lean, the freckle-spattered man had the build and stance of an underfed teenager despite being around the same age as Chibs. Wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes, and in defiance of his head of scruffy red hair, his lengthy tri-braided beard was entirely gray.

Chibs wandered to shrug his own rucksack off onto the bed. The Irishman, meanwhile, plopped himself into one of the pair of chairs at the dinette and wrangled a grimy old laptop from his shoulder bag. As McCraig flicked the thing to life and scattered more contraptions upon the table top, Kassidy took note of the pale, scrawny arms that needled out from his denim vest. Each of his shoulders had been covered with large, hastily-scrawled patches of black ink. They were the oddest choice in tattoos she’d ever seen.

Chibs ambled close once more, an ornery glint in his eyes. He reached to bat at locks of dark brown hair that now fell to Kassidy’s shoulders.

“Good choice.”

“Aye?” Kass half-smiled, finally beginning to relax, “Been dying it various shades of offensive since I was a kid. Figured me natural color would be the last thing anyone’d expect now.”

Telford smirked before nodding, “How’s the leg?”

“Better than it was this morning, shit,” Kass hobbled as Chibs steered her over to the unoccupied chair at the table and wrangled the thing out for her to sit, “Though do I even want to know where you got the pills?”

“Some twenty-somethin’s apartment downstairs,” Chibs admitted, “Though I’m pretty fuckin’ sure they weren’t hers either. No fuckin’ way that spritely young gash’s name is Ethel.” 

Both he and McCraig chuckled darkly at that.

“No, no it’s not,” Eli confirmed. With a few more pecks at his keyboard, he nodded to Chibs, “Yer connected, laddie. Program’s already runnin’. Have y’the slightest inkling how to use it?”

Chibs exhaled smoke from a newly lit cigarette, “Not a one.”

“What program?” Kass asked curiously.

“Skype, is it?” Telford asked. With McCraig’ nod in affirmation, he leaned to sit upon the table top at her side, “Need to make face-time with some people we can trust before the night’s out.”

“Well shit, I can do that,” Kassidy shrugged, “I mean, as long as you have your account and your contact’s info.”

Chibs shifted enough to pull a rumpled piece of paper from his back pocket, unfolding and tilting it her way. Kassidy leaned in to eyeball the thing. While the information was as cryptically vague as possible - little more than a series of arbitrary numbers and letters - everything she needed was there.  


“Yeah. I got it.”

Chibs nodded, and tossed the paper onto the table between them, “Good. Now to figure out what exactly to do with you, Kassy-girl.”

“Did Morrow call y’back after this mornin’ with any news, laddie?” McCraig asked before Kassidy could get a word in edgewise. She was left watching Chibs warily, hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Aye, 'bout an hour before we met,” Chibs stood, wandering to retrieve the rickety desk chair and hoist it over to the table. He pivoted the thing around backwards and sat to straddle it as he continued, “He’s got boys prepared to run between charters from Philly clear out to Redwood. Manchester’s on watch between ferry n’ flight on our end.”

“Shit, brother,” McCraig whistled through his teeth. He sat back into his chair, thumbing the brim of his flatcap out of his eyes, “You’ve clearly put your time in for SAMCRO o’er the years to garner such a show.”  


Kassidy looked up with a start at his words. Her belly lurched with recognition.

SAMCRO.

The Sons of Anarchy.

_Mother o’Christ, are they both…?_

She’d known that, years back, Kerriane’s Da had been with SAMBEL, the Sons' Belfast charter. She’d chalked Telford's tattoos - a reaper upon one shoulder and an Anarchy-A upon the other - up to simply that… remnants of his life in Belfast before fleeing to the States. She’d had no clue, however, that he’d patched in elsewhere. The idea rattled her. By Kassidy’s experience, the Sons had proven nothing but trouble… a tool wielded by O’Phelan to brutish, oftentimes fatal degrees.

“The only charter with its lips firmly fixed around Jimmy-O’s dick is SAMBEL. ‘s the way it’s always been,” Chibs spat sharply, pulling Kassidy from her birdsnest of thoughts, “The rest stay loyal to the Sons. You mess with one brother, y’fuck with the entire club. Redwood’s just puttin’ to use what’s always been the case.”

“Fancy that,” McCraig groused. He eyeballed Chibs with a glare that bordered on skeptical, “So then, if Jimmy makes a move against you once yer out o’ Ireland--”

“He’ll risk retaliation from the entire MC,” Chibs confirmed, “Clay’ll reach out to SAMBEL the moment we’re in-hand with the Brits. I suspect the warning’ll get to TIRA just fine from there.”

“Christ,” McCraig shook his head slowly after a few moments of silence between them, “We prospected the wrong fuckin’ charter, brother.”

Chibs scoffed, exhaling smoke, “You’re tellin' me.”

“And what o’ this one?”

Kassidy looked between the pair of elder men restlessly as McCraig turned attentions to her. Chibs watched her for a moment, dark eyes in thought before noting, “Suppose that’s up to her.” He nodded to his friend then, “You should get home to your kid, brother. I’ll let y’know the plan when it’s decided.”

“Aye,” McCraig stood. Chibs joined him and the pair embraced, hands clapping briskly to one another's’ shoulders.

“Thank you,” the Scotsman said quietly.

“Anything, anytime,” McCraig smiled, “Keagan’s tomorrow night?”

“We’ll be there.”

The lanky ginger nodded. He cast a glance to Kassidy, giving her a nod and a wink, and with that, he was gone.

"Keagan?" Kass asked quietly. Alone again with Chibs after the day's exhaustive solitude, the weight of what she'd just learned settled heavy. Despite her query, Kassidy stared firmly at her hands.

"An ol' mate," Chibs replied absently. He was rifling through the cupboard where Kass had stashed the food, and retrieved a couple of cans of stew, "Has a knack for forged ID's and documents n' the like. You're going t'need a passport, at the very least."

Kassidy fell silent. She felt overwhelmed, and equally lost. Watching Telford dump his meal into a pan upon the aging electric stove, her gaze fell squarely upon the reaper tattoo upon his left shoulder. With a shaky sigh and a quiver in her belly, Kass leaned in on the table, pressing her forehead into her palms. 

"We stay here ‘til tomorrow night,” Chibs left his pot to simmer, snatching his rucksack from the bed as he made his way back over. Kass sat up and back warily as he clipped a chair close to her with the toe of his boot, “Get whatever documentation we need offa Keagan, then. Couple o’ blokes I've managed to pull connections with'll meet up nearby, and get a bit of a distraction kicked up on Jimmy-O's front lawn. You and I should be on the boat for Portpatrick by sun-up. After that, where you go is up to you."

"I don't---" 

Kassidy could feel her wherewithal deteriorating fast. The possibilities were simply too vast.

“Breathe, kid,” Chibs cuffed her knee with the back of his hand, “First thing’s first. Here.” 

He pulled his rucksack open and withdrew a box from inside. Placed at her feet, he clipped its top off and brushed away wax paper to reveal its contents, “Checked the size on your trainers last night before pitchin’ ‘em in the fire. These usually run a size up, so.”

“Jesus, really?” Kassidy pulled one of the items from the box. Unlike the clothes she’d unwittingly inherited, the boots before her were new; Black leather, hefty little things, despite their slim cut and slight heels. Ankle high and adorned with smartly placed buckles and straps, the girl in her couldn’t help but muster a grin as she glanced up at Chibs, “These are wicked.”

Chibs looked thoroughly amused, “Aye? Well, me mate’s old lady swears by ‘em, so.”

Kassidy had the pair wiggled on and fastened up in short order. They proved a bit snug in the heel, but nothing a little wear-and-tear wouldn’t fix. She stretched both feet out in front of her, heels to the ground, before casting another glance to the Scot, “Thank you.”

Chibs gave her a wink before gathering up and casting the empty box aside, “Way I see it, you’ve three choices after tomorrow. Two, if you care to stay safe.”

Kassidy sat back, arms crossing at her belly against brewing nerves.  


“We need t’get you out of Ireland, no matter what. Y’know as well as I do that the True IRA’s reach is too deep here. There’s not a rural rock you could hide under that warrants the risk.”

“Yeah,” Kass admitted quietly, “I know.”

“So, you either pick a continent, I get you there, and y’go it alone, which I would not recommend...” 

Chibs seemed to take heed of his company’s mounting panic and apparent relief as he both brought up and dashed the option she feared the most in one swift note. He was quick to add, “I’m not a big fan o’castin’ a lamb to the wolves, Kassy-girl. You’re a ballsy wee shit, and you’ve survived more’n most, but there’s far worse out there than you’ve seen in alla nineteen years. What you need is a safety net. Guaranteed protection for your loyalty - and that brings us to the only options that work.”

Kassidy caught on to where he was headed before he even uttered the word. She squint at him, her eyes darting between each of his own as she stated matter-of-factly, “You want me to trust the Sons.”

“SAMBEL and the Sons of Anarchy are not one in the same, Kass,” Chibs pressed, “The True IRA’s had Belfast in bed since its inception, and I get that that’s all you’ve seen of the club, but the rest of the MC is loyal to its own. You get in good with any other charter, they will protect you well before its other interests.”

“And how does that work, exactly?” Kassidy asked frigidly, “I’m not an idiot, Filip. You gits are essentially the he-man-woman-hater’s club on hogs. Boys only. So I what, pick a charter and fuck around until one o' you takes me, is that it?”

Chibs sighed, wincing at her bluntness, “That’s MC life, kid. Everyone has their place. Y’may be able to find work in whatever business a particular charter happens to be runnin’. Sons are outlaw, but that doesn’t stop ‘em from using legitimate fronts in their hometowns to pull in funds. There’s a good chance you’d have to get in good with a bloke to stay long term, though, aye. But you’ll have 28 charters and thousands o’ miles between you and Jimmy-O.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kass swore. Elbows at her knees, she buried her face in her hands. Her palms squelched the tears in her eyes before pushing back to grip her hair.

“Third option,” Telford sat forward, pose very much mirroring hers. His face drew close to try to catch her eyes. When she wouldn't even look at him he pressed, "Kass, look at me, kid. Hey."

It took a few moments, but Kass finally relented, albeit in the form of a chilly sidelong glare.

"Third option," Chibs continued quietly, “Y'come back to Redwood with me."

That got her attention. Kassidy caught his gaze in an odd mix of wary and stunned.

"Charming’s a small town," he explained, "Nothin’ happens there without the MC’s go-ahead. You’ll be safe. My charge, my responsibility - they’ll protect you as me own.”

“You...You’re serious?” Kassidy stammered, after a few moments tripping over words in her head.

“Ye killed a man - fucked over everything - t’save my life, kid,” Chibs said squarely, “And you did it for Fi n’ Kerrianne. Of course I'm fuckin' serious. Least I can do is try ’n make it right. Keep you safe so y'have a chance to rebuild.”

Without thinking, Kassidy hugged Chibs tight. Fear of infinite unknowns still racked her bodily, but the offer of not having to try and tackle them alone was more relief than she could put into words. Chibs reciprocated in turn, however awkwardly. He wrapped his arms around the kid, a hand at the back of her head, before pulling back far enough to press a bristly, teasing kiss at her cheek, “Redwood?”

Endearingly sheepish at the smooch, Kassidy nodded, “Redwood.” 

By all accounts, it was the only real option. It was the only thing that felt even remotely safe, and even then...

“Allright,” Chibs stood, wandering back to the stove, “It’s not a complete cure-all where TIRA is concerned. The Irish have been runnin’ guns up and down the west coast through the Sons since the early 90’s. But most of our business is done offsite. Jimmy himself’s not been Stateside in over fifteen years. Long as we’re careful, you’ll be fine.” He tipped the last of the stew in the second of two bowls, before heading back Kass’s way, “Club president n’ his family run a garage on the far side o’ town - work there myself.” He set a bowl before her and took a seat, “I can get you a job on the front end t'start - record keepin’, time sheets, that sort o’ thing.”

“That I can do,” Kass managed as she needled around her bowl with a spoon. Her head was still spinning, “This video-call thing… when does that need to happen?”

“What time is it?”

Kassidy brushed her free hand at the old laptop’s mousepad, and the screen flickered back to life, “Just after one.”

“About twenty minutes, then,” Chibs wrestled a flask from his hoodie pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a pull. Kassidy couldn’t help but shake her head at the horrible combination of whiskey and soup, but the Scotsman didn’t seem to notice or care, “Boys have a meetin', want me in on it.”

“‘Church’, is it?” Kass asked offhandedly.

Chibs quirked an eyebrow, “And you knew that how?”

“The irony of the name’s hardly been lost on TIRA’s Catholic humpin’ Irish, love,” Kass managed a smile, “I don’t know who caught wind of it first, but it’s become the butt of more’n a few jokes… relax, I won’t be repeatin’ any.”

The Scotsman shook his head before nodding towards the computer, “Probably best if we keep you out o’ the know with anything said.”

“Well, your boy Eli thought ahead,” Kass noted. She fished over a small plastic container and rattled its contents, “Brought a pair of headphones… pink headphones, even. Christ. I take it his kid’s a girl?”

“Aye, Darcy,” Chibs confirmed, “She’s about a year older than Kerrianne. You’re wearin’ her trousers, actually.”

“Oh,” Kass looked down for a moment before shrugging, “Cheers. Anyway, I’ll only be able to hear you once you’re plugged in, and fuck if I’ll be able to make any sense of the conversation with just that."

"Fair enough," he replied, before pointing his spoon her way, "Eat up, kid. You'll need it."

  



	5. Church over Wifi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kassidy gets her first glimpse of the Redwood Original.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 5:** Church over Wifi  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford, Juice Ortiz, Gemma Teller-Morrow, Clay Morrow, Jax Teller, Tig Trager  
>  **Word Count:** 2,187  
>  **Synopsis:** Kassidy gets her first glimpse of the Redwood Original.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language, Crude Humor  
>  **Writer Notes:** The idea of SAMCRO using Skype was too ridiculous and amusing for me to resist. (I'm so, so bad at taking things too seriously.) Plus, hooray for excuses to pull in Charming-based characters while these nerds are still across the pond.  
> 

Twenty minutes later, Kassidy sat hunkered in front of the laptop. Pink-strand earbuds dangled from her ears and the tattered scrap paper Chibs had jot his contact information upon was propped hastily against a nearby bowl.

"Mate, I've gotta tell yah," she said as she attempted to decipher the written password for a third consecutive time, "I can't read your handwriting for half a shite."

"Neither can I," the Scotsman replied. He lie back upon the trundle bed, scratching at his forehead with the fingertips that weren't holding a lit cigarette, "Left my bloody glasses in Charming. You gettin' that all right?"

With another stroke of the enter key, the account finally logged itself in.

"Aye," she grinned, "Third time's the charm."

An invite to add a new contact flashed in her peripherals the moment her login was complete. Kass accepted the request just as Chibs pulled himself to his feet with a groan from behind her. Just as quickly, a new window popped up and a ringtone danced in her ears; It seemed SAMCRO was well-prepared for conference calls.

"Alright, they're callin' in now," Kass said. As Chibs leaned in, she motioned to the screen, "It's easy enough to accept or decline a call, here. The sound seems to be working ok, but I should probably make certain, or shit could get awkward pretty fast."

Chibs nodded, "Do what you need."

Admittedly, a very large part of Kassidy was crawling with curiosity over just what sort of individual would be on the other end of that conference call. She was going to have to meet these people now, after all. Belly crawling with nerves, she clicked to accept the call.

Whatever she was expecting was not at all what Kassidy was greeted with. After a scramble of pixelation, a young, rather friendly face flooded the screen. The tan-skinned fellow sported a close-cropped mohawk flanked by tribal tattoos, and dark eyes that sparked alight with his broad, goofy grin.

"I..." Kass couldn't help the funny expression that began to flood her own features at the sight. His smile was infectious, "Hello."

"Hey," the man nodded kindly, "You must be Kassidy." He leaned back abruptly to flag someone down from behind him, "Hey, Gemma!"

"Juicy-boy!" Chibs grinned as he clapped Kassidy on the shoulder, "All's working?"

Kass nodded, "Seems to be."

"Seriously, though?" Juice turned back to the camera, "I'm glad you're there to get this running on his end because I swear to god Chibs is about as computer literate as my 82 year old grandmother."

Kassidy had to laugh at that - even more so when Juice jumped back a bit... and it was little wonder why. The very moment his words had escaped him, Chibs ducked enough to be seen by the camera in their little apartment's underwhelming light.

"He didn't hear that, did he?" Juice asked, grin faltering.

"No," Kass mused, plucking an ear bud from one ear, "We're wired up."

"Good," he replied as someone - clearly a woman - waltzed up behind him. Juice was quick to lean to one side, and point at his computer screen, "Check it out."

"Is that her?" A fierce, equally gorgeous older woman - old enough to be Juice's mother, in fact - leaned into view. She brushed dark, blonde-streaked hair from her eyes and studied SAMCRO's end of the video feed for all of a moment before pursing her lips against the threat of a smile. "Shit, she's cute. Chibbie's going to have his hands full with that one."

"Right?" Juice laughed.

There was a sudden call to Juice from well off-screen. The woman patted her younger companion's shoulder and backed away. Juice grabbed the laptop and hoisted it up with him as he stood, "Better hand me over to the Scot. You guys stay in one piece, all right?"

"We'll try," Kassidy smiled. She pulled both earbuds from her ears and looked up at Chibs, "Ready?"

He nodded. Kass was quick to relinquish her seat, adding, "Just don't touch anything and you should be good. It may seem slow in patches, but that's pretty normal long distance. Here," she swung the earbud cords before him the moment he was settled and he snatched them up with ringed fingers, "If anything gets weird, let me know. I'll figure out how to fix it."

"Hey, brother," Chibs grinned as he squashed the buds into his ears. He was lost for attention the moment he was able to hear what was on-screen.

"No, no, not as of yet," he replied to something Juice quipped, "Bastard just keeps on tryin' though."

Kass gave him a pat on the back before limping off to busy herself amidst the backdrop of a one-sided conversation.

A chill pervaded their small space on the coattails of a rainstorm that had crawled in with the early AM. With the sound of Chibs rambling on to his cohorts at her back, Kassidy clipped the far window shut and built a small fire to drum up heat and add a bit of extra light to aid Telford's web chat.

Most of what he said might as well have been in Mandarin Chinese, Kass mused. Every name he uttered was completely foreign, and every scenario pointlessly disconnected. In the rare instances she began to pick up on his words, Chibs seemed to read her interest from his peripherals and made the effort to lower his tone.

She had pulled the clean laundry from its line, folded the lot and wandered past to place the bundle near his rucksack when Chibs' conversation switched tone. He spoke openly, and Kassidy knew precisely what he spoke of.

"Not a word o' exaggeration, brother, I shit you not. Switchblade straight through the jugular, into the fuckin’ spine. Locked in n' held on ‘til it drained the motherfucker dry. Never seen a thing like it - and I've seen some _shit_."

Kassidy felt a chilling sort of numbness crawl over her at those words. Telford sounded positively cavalier about what he'd seen, over what she'd done, when the only thing she could do was try and bury it as deep as possible in efforts to keep from having to handle how much the whole thing horrified her... It was unsettling, at best.

"Fuckin' Irish -That’s _exactly_ it," Chibs mused in response to something, before laughing darkly, in a tone that bordered on innuendo, "Aye, now y'get it, brother, _now_ y'do."

Kassidy... really didn't want to know where that conversation was going. Brow furrowed, temples teasing a headache, she pressed the pile of clothes flat upon the table top, and began carting soiled dishes to the sink, dodging Telford's gaze the whole while.

"Kassy-girl."

She looked up from running water with a start to find the Scotsman flagging her over.

"...Shit," Kass muttered under her breath.

Her eyes dart between Chibs and the laptop for a moment, before she fumbled awkwardly between killing the faucet and mopping her hands dry on the sides of her flannel shirt.

By in large, SAMBEL had scared the shit out of her since she was a kid - since she was six, in fact. Kassidy recalled very distinctly the reason why; How taking a back-road walk home with her mum and her baby brother had proven a terrible idea despite the uncharacteristically sunny day.

The bikers hadn't laid a hand on she or her family. Kass wasn't even sure they'd noticed the horrified little knot of people as they'd flown past. But, in a stroke of awful timing, a trio of Sons had roared past up the dusty gravel road, leaving a literal swath of blood in their wake.

To this day, Kassidy wasn't sure what the man tethered to the back of one of those bikes could have have done to warrant such a punishment. She wasn't sure if he'd survived, or if he'd already been dead when she spotted the poor thing, though by the way he'd drug along the road in the bikers' wake, he'd been mercifully unconscious at the very least. But that sight - the bloodied, rag-doll man lolling after three monstrous men with reapers on their backs - was all it took to solidify the Sons of Anarchy as something to be feared. What few encounters she'd had with them in her past year on the peripherals of Derek's gun runs had hardly helped endear her to their sort, either.

All the same, Chibs was waiting. The near-stranger with her best mate's eyes and a desperately needed offer to keep her safe wanted to introduce her to Sons from his side of the pond. Pulling in a shuddering breath and steeling her nerves, Kassidy made her way to the seat at his left.

She went rigid the moment she settled.

The video feed before her struck her as ominous in a manner only a hare amongst a pack of wolves could possibly relate. Eight over-large men sat in a dark, smoke-muddled room around a broad oaken table which, despite the hitch of pixelation, Kass swore was emblazoned with a Reaper.

They were a motley collective. Tattoos and hairstyles, postures and builds varied as greatly as their ages. They remained uniform in their cuts and their air of knowing intimidation, however. That much was certain. Even Juice, who'd proven charming all of a half hour prior, struck her as ominous tucked with this lot.

She noticed as well that Juice must have attached his laptop to a larger monitor for collective viewing. Unlike she and Chibs, SAMCRO was hardly huddled around an undersized screen. To the contrary, they sat back with an air of abject, almost slappable laziness. Kassidy wondered briefly if these cheeky bastards feared anything at all.

A particularly frightening looking bloke sat at the table's head. Broad and ham-fisted, he reminded Kassidy of a silverback gorilla in an oversized leather kutte and bulky silver rings. It was when that very fellow started to speak and came up silent that Kass jerked to.

"Shit, love, the chord," she gestured to the occupied headphone jack, "You'll want to pull it out for sound." She wasn't doing a damned thing without a go-ahead. Not in front of this lot.

Chibs seemed to gather as much. He pulled the earphones out of commission himself, and tossed them aside.

"Run that by us again, Clay. Kid couldn't hear it," he said, leaning back in his chair in a manner that mirrored his brothers to a T.

"We good?" Clay asked coolly.

"Aye," Kass nodded nervously.

"Alright. Same question, and just the one," Clay leaned forward, "How does a nineteen year old kid find it in her to take out her old man to save a complete stranger, let alone that low-life piece of shit right there?"

Kassidy blinked broadly at the question, a hot blush fanning across her face. She gave a quick glance back to Chibs. He merely shrugged and pulled a face as though it was a perfectly rational thing to ask. Why yes, as a matter of fact, he was a low-life piece of shit. Carry on.

"You are no help," Kass jibbed quietly. She received an ornery wink for her trouble.

She turned back to the screen at that. The only answer that came to her was the truth... However poorly worded.

"What wouldn't you do for your best mate, old man? For any of them?" She made a sharp motion towards the mean lot Clay was practically swimming in, "Answer that... And tell me, why th'fuck would I be any different? Nineteen, tits, or no?"

There was a slight murmur of laughter amongst SAMCRO - As incredulous as it was entertained.

" _Jesus_ ," Kass caught the blonde haired fellow to Clay's immediate right murmur humorously, despite an attempt to cover his grin against the camera.

"Whelp. I'm hard." Came another remark (from the leering, wild-haired fellow to Clay's left, judging by the punch in the shoulder he received from Juice immediately thereafter.)

"Alright, Scot," Clay spoke up over the din, clearly having had his fun, "You're set. Though, for fucks sake," he jabbed his finger their way, "Reel that kid's lip in before she gets here or I'm gonna knock it clean off."

Chibs leaned forward again, chuckling as he exhaled smoke, "Will do, brother." He cuffed Kass's thigh with the back of his hand at this and gave a jerk of his head, "Go."

Kassidy was more than happy to escape the relentless gazes on screen. She put a hand to Chibs' shoulder to help herself stand against a still-questionable leg. He kept a hand on her back in turn.

"...Ring me when you reach the Brits," Clay was saying all the while, "Have the Charters check in when they finish their runs. Otherwise, unless everything goes to shit, we'll see you in two weeks, brother."

Something that sounded oddly close to a gavel being clapped to its wooden base rang over the laptop's speakers. Kassidy glanced back long enough to see the bikers rise and collectively amble out of sight, save for Juice who strode up, and with a single keystroke, severed the call between them.

 


	6. Running on Fumes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kassidy is overwhelmed with what lies ahead, and what she’s about to leave behind. Chibs does his best to try and keep the kid in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 6:** Running on Fumes  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford, Kerrianne Larkin  
>  **Word Count** : 1,305  
>  **Synopsis:** Kassidy is overwhelmed with what lies ahead, and what she’s about to leave behind. Chibs does his best to try and keep the kid in one piece.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language, Emotional Turmoil  
>  **Writer’s Notes:** One last proper breakdown for Kass before it's time to buck up and do her best to not die. Also, slight change to this story arc's title, as it made me giggle. ;)

Chibs sat quietly for a moment, his cigarette dwindling at his fingertips. There was something particularly loaded about that silence; Doubly so when he cast a glance back her way. 

"There's not many of these boys you'll be able to take the piss outta, Kassy-girl. They don't take well to disrespect, least of all from a kid," he said evenly, before taking a pull from his smoke, "That shit’ll land you in a world o' hurt."

Kassidy fumbled with the dish towel she was holding and looked quickly back towards the sink, “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking, just… panicking a little, I guess. Seems to be my go-to mode for everything right now. I’m just so bloody...”

She pitched the rag into the sink and brought her hand, still chilly from the tap, to her forehead.

“You’re runnin’ on fumes, kid,” Chibs said knowingly.

“Running on fumes. Looking to a fuckin’ MC for help. Getting scolded by me best mate’s outlaw biker da,” she mused wearily as she turned to face him proper, leaning against the counter for support.

“Nonsense,” the Scot barbed, jerking his chin up with an ornery grin, “I don’t scold. I tip n’ tan ass. So don’t push it, aye?”

“Oi, shut it,” Kass managed a laugh, albeit a very nervous one, “Like t’see you try.”

Chibs stood abruptly from his chair, and Kassidy nearly jumped out of her boots, eyes flown wide. Her reaction had Telford doubled over laughing. Kassidy wasn’t nearly as amused, however. Her heart had leapt in her chest and pounded in her ears, and her leg screamed angrily at the sudden folly. An attempt to smile at his humor came up short as it struck her… she was so afraid. Of everything. 

Kass turned back to the sink to hide her stumble into silent tears. The hand that mopped absently against tears at her face was trembling, which only served to frustrate her more.

Chibs caught onto his unintended blunder quickly enough. Silent footfalls brought him to her side, and he placed a hand on her back without a word. He watched her evenly as she struggled to regain her composure.

“Do me a favor, kid?” 

“Aye?” she flinched, casting a weary glance his way.

“Take it easy ‘til we leave,” he said quietly, hip against the counter as he leaned to catch her gaze, “There’s nothin’ that need be done between now n’ tomorrow that I can't get done myself. You’ve already pulled more’n your share.”

Kassidy shook her head timidly, feeling so overwhelmed that she visibly shrank on the spot.

"I... I don't think I can," she shuttered at a near-whisper, "It's like every time I sit still - if I give myself even a fuckin' moment to think, all I can see, all I can process... I fuckin' _killed someone_. I seriously just..." She risked a glance his way at this; she risked meeting his eyes. The look she gave him was positively shattered.

"Stop."

Kassidy found herself pulled to him tightly, his hand at the back of her head as he held her at his shoulder. She tensed completely, her arms hugged to her chest between them as her lungs seized and her bones rattled in an awful, visceral fear.

"Breathe, y'muppet," he said as he ducked his mouth to her ear, "You'll be all right, kid. I promise you'll be all right. Just breathe."

She struggled to do as she was told, and for the life of her she couldn't understand why it was so hard. Her temples pounded and her head swam and her chest screamed for her lungs to relent in their rebellion. For a moment she swore her body simply did not want to do this anymore - didn't want to deal with another moment of recollection of Derek Sullivan's final strangulated breath. 

The moment she gasped for air, she regretted it. With the slightest hint of relief, her body betrayed her. Kassidy was suddenly and irreparably lost in every bit of anguish and fright that had been lurking over the past many hours. It crushed her bodily with sobs.

She was mortified with what she had done. Terrified that Jimmy-O and the True IRA knew. Intimidated utterly by the prospect of hiding amongst the likes of SAMCRO. Guilty as sin for breaking down in front of the man she'd done all of it to protect, and humiliated all the more for appearing as weak and as lost as she felt in front of anyone at all. 

The entire messy ordeal struck her so heavily that Kassidy barely registered as Chibs ushered her away from the sink, holding her firmly against risk of toppling in her grief. It was a number of minutes before her sobs abated and the tumult in her mind clamored to an exhausted, browbeaten limp.

Only then, amidst a mounting headache and hitching breaths, stinging eyes and a scratchy throat did she realize he'd not only gotten her to lie down upon the trundle bed, but that he'd lie down right with her. Chibs sprawled at her back, an arm around her front holding her close. She was tucked into him there, held tightly; protectively. The arm unencumbered with holding her close brushed a hand comfortingly upon her arm as her trembling finally calmed. She could feel his heartbeat at her back and his breath in her hair. The warmth between them forced her racing thoughts at bay out of pure exhaustion.

And it struck her... She suddenly felt safe. Right there. Despite everything having gone to shit, despite threats looming in every conceivable direction and despite infinite unknowns barreling down her door, Kassidy felt safe, if but for a moment - wrapped up and protected by the likes of Kerrianne's da.

Clinging to that sense of security with everything she could muster, Kass shuffled to turn around and face him. Telford's grip loosened and he made move to give her her distance instinctively. The space he aimed to offer, however, was not what she chose to take. He fumbled awkwardly for a moment when she wrapped her arms around him where they lie, hugging him tightly. Kass pressed a kiss to his shoulder, muttering almost imperceptibly, "Thank you."

At this, Chibs seemed to relent. He wrapped his arms back around her in turn. Pressing his mouth upon the top of her head, he stifling a funny, oddly familiar yawn and sigh.

Despite eyelids that weighed heavily and an odd sort of diligence taken to breathing in the scent of cigarettes and cologne, a thought struck Kassidy just then; The source of familiarity in Telford's mannerisms hit home. With that connection, a sharp pain needled in the pit of her gut.

_Kerrianne._

"I'm not going to be able to see her again, am I?"

Her words were barely audible, but Telford had gathered them all the same.

"No," he said quietly after a while, "Not for a long while. It's not safe for either of you. I'm sorry."

He fell silent. Kassidy suspected he was bracing for a fresh bout of tears. She hadn't it in her, however - she hadn't the energy or the will. Kass was left, instead, feeling horribly numb at the prospect; at the mere thought of never again seeing a girl she'd practically lived for every day for the past five years. Kass ducked her face into his tshirt and remained there, unflinching, content on hiding there from the entire miserable ordeal.

"Y’just hang on to 'Someday,' sweetheart," Chibs spoke once he was certain she was holding it together, "You'll be surprised how long that can keep you lookin' forward."

There was something particularly heart wrenching about the defeat in his words. It was the last thing uttered by either of them before Kassidy succumbed to sleep.


	7. Fuck You, Pay Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just past dawn, the True IRA come knocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 7:** Fuck you, Pay Me  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford, Jimmy O’Phelan  
>  **Word Count:** 2,670  
>  **Synopsis:** Just past dawn, the True IRA come knocking.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language, Emotional Turmoil, Graphic Depictions of Violence  
>  **Writer’s Notes:** Quick heads up - if blood makes you especially squeamish, you may want to forgo the first portion of this chapter (the block in italics.) Had fun trying to balance some seriously dark stuff with a little humor, though. Was also fun to give Kass some breathing room to be a little more herself (as opposed to a terrified hot mess) before shit hits the fan again. Thanks for reading!

_The docks were rank and stagnant at such a late hour; The air was motionless, and bitter cold. Kassidy ducked low behind stacked crates, breath shuddering against the frigid chill and the heart lodged in her throat._

_What little light the flickering street lamp across the way had to offer framed the struggle upon the tailgate of Derek Sullivan’s old truck in harsh relief. Kerrianne’s Da writhed an spat and cursed bloody murder, but his hands were already tied - quite literally - as he’d only just come to, on the tail end of Derek unloading a roll of duct tape around his wrists._

_Derek snatched his lanky prisoner by the back of his leather jacket, heaving him up from his huddle in the truck and letting him crumble to the gravel at their feet with his own panicked momentum. An impressive string of obscenities - thickly accented and venomous - erupted from the Scotsman, only to be silenced by Derek as he planted a vicious boot to his rib cage._

_Kassidy wavered on her heels where she stood, sweating bullets. Derek snatched his prisoner up once more and shoved him forward. The pair of them were a powerful entanglement of fury and puffs of steam against the icy ocean air as Filip Telford was drug, fighting tooth and nail, towards the darkened doorway of the nearby warehouse._

_“No… nonono… Fuck!” Kassidy hissed._

_In defiance of the anxiety that desperately wished to keep her feet planted in her hiding place, she tore forward, and slinked into the shadow of the warehouse’s eves._

_The cavernous warehouse interior amplified the sounds of frantic scrambling; They echoed helplessly from all around. Shouts from Telford’s furious efforts to shirk free were outpaced only by the deafening thrum of the pulse that raged in the pit’s of Kassidy’s ears. She watched, mortified, as her father cracked the heel of his glock over the back of Chibs’s skull before dragging him, dazed but fighting ever still, to the center of the floor. Chibs was shoved to his knees, panting and snarling. He froze as a silencer was pressed firmly between his eyes._

_Moonlight from the skylight overhead glint off of frigid steel in Kassidy's peripherals. She gripped the switchblade she had pulled from her jeans pocket with an assured hand despite the tremble that otherwise haunted her body. Silent footfalls drew her closer and closer to Derek’s back, her breath held tight and her head spinning._

_“He’ll not be thankin’ you for spillin’ blood he’s called for his own, y’daft cunt,” Chibs spat at the Irishman looming over him._

_“You think Jimmy’d question for a second that you tried runnin’ like a fuckin’ coward and I had to put you down?” Kassidy could hear the cruel grin in Derek’s words. His tone was impossibley casual given the situation, and ran equally cold; Manipulative as ever. “It’s what you do, Filip - Flee like a spineless gash.”_

_The look of bitter disdain that spread over Chib’s features could have razed all of Belfast to the ground, “Fuck you.”_

_Just within arm’s reach of Derek Sullivan’s towering presence, another glint from the moonlight overhead flared from the knife in Kassidy’s grasp. That glint was seen by the Scotsman. For all of his duress, even as Derek cocked his firearm and jammed its silencer to his forehead once more, Chibs somehow maintained a look of absolute passivity in discovering the sudden presence at his assailant's back. He also, however, caught Kassidy's wide-eyed, terrified gaze._

_His eyes were Kerrianne’s, she thought. Kassidy’s gut wrenched. The cries of panic from her best mate’s phone call that very afternoon ran rampant through her mind - desperate and heartbroken. Begging for help._

_Derek’s shoulders squared, his finger gracing the trigger, “You should have stayed runnin’, boy.”_

_“... Derek?”_

_Sullivan recognized the voice that carried his name in an instant. He raised the silencer from Chibs’s forehead just as fast. He then seized in shock, spine ramrod and voice ripping from his lungs as six inches of frigid steel sunk into his jugular._

_The scene to follow was bedlam. Derek hollered and writhed. Calloused hands and furious struggling did their damnedest to shake the terrified little woman from his back, but the more he struggled, the deeper that blade sank. The further it tore open flesh. The further it lodged to bone. Blood gushed violently with every strum of his pulse, pouring from him with abandon - draining him dry. And still, he could not shake her._

_Kassidy remembered little of that horrifying struggle - One hand a bear trap upon the switchblade, the other gripping for dear life in Derek’s graying hair, legs wrapped around the hollering rat bastard’s middle. She did, however, vividly remember the blood._

_By the time Derek crumpled to the floor, weakened and dazed, his knees clapped a rapidly expanding pool. His gun fell from his grasp, skittering across the floor, and Kassidy herself collapsed to the concrete, scrambling desperately to get away from the man just as fast. Cooling, sticky crimson swathed her front from neck to knees. She shot a hysterical glance to Chibs; the Scotsman sat, pale as a sheet, dark eyes bugging in shock, with Derek’s blood splattered artlessly across his features._

_“Shit,” Chibs managed, “Holy shit!”_

_Derek wheezed and collapsed onto his side; he gripped the knife in his neck. Pulling it free proved a horrible mistake. As the switchblade clamored to the floor, the spill of his blood only quickened._

_And then, things really went south._

_The hum and rattle of a cellphone fired from somewhere on Derek’s fading body. In the same instant, Kassidy and Chibs froze, panicked, at the sound of cars rolling across the dusty gravel outside._

_“Get the knife!” Chibs bit abruptly._

_Kassidy blinked, head spinning, “What?”_

_“The knife, kid! You gotta cut me loose!”_

_“Shit!”_

_Kassidy scrambled, desperate to gain traction with overworn trainers on the blood-slicked concrete beneath her. She grabbed the switchblade from where it stuck thickly to the floor, before skittering to drop to her knees behind Kerrianne’s Da._

_Outside, engines died. Doors open and clipped closed. A familiar voice hollered for the right-hand-man who now lie curdling grossly on his own blood inside. All the while, Kassidy fumbled to cut Chibs free from his binds with a blade that was so slippery with blood she could barely hold it steady. She cut and she struggled, wiping hands frantically on already sodden jeans to little avail._

_“Come on, come on!” Telford bit._

_“I’m trying! I’m sorry, it’s just-- Shit, come ON!” Kassidy stammered desperately, “FUCK!”_

_The tape shorn free the exact moment a warehouse door clapped open across the way._

_Chibs was up at once. His broad stride closed the distance between he and Derek’s abandoned firearm just as shots rang out from the furious Irishmen flooding in through the doorway. Kassidy, all the while, had frozen. Her gaze locked with that of Jimmy O’Phelan, who surged forward from amongst his men._

_Jimmy O looked harried and shocked one moment- pale gaze firing from Derek’s lifeless body to Chibs and Kassidy - and furious the next._

_She didn’t have the chance to register whatever words O’Phelan shouted next. Kass shrieked as Chibs grabbed her arm and wrangled her back bodily. An arm outstretched over her shoulder plugging a number of deafening shots towards Jimmy and his men. They scattered like roaches, just as Chibs bellowed into Kassidy’s ear._

_**“RUN!”** _

\---------  
Kassidy gasped and shot bolt upright, torn between fight and flight. Cold sweat rolled down her back as she struggled to catch her breath, wounded leg tangled stiffly in overwarm sheets. Her wide eyes cast around the room, and only then did she shiver a sigh. 

For the moment, at least, she was safe.

“Goddammit,” she muttered. 

Kass squashed palms to tired eyes, before raking fingers through frazzled hair.

It was just past dawn. Sleepy light and a chilly breeze trickled in through the cracked-open window across the way. The spatter of brewing coffee mimicked the steady spray from the shower underway behind the nearby bathroom door. A fresh set of clothes sat folded upon the quilt at Kassidy’s feet while both she and Chibs’ rucksacks sat, packed and at the ready, by the door.

Chibs Telford, Kassidy noted wryly, was clearly one of those godforsaken _Morning People._

Eager to put anything she could between herself and the harried, bloody memories vying for attention in her head, Kassidy was quick to toss aside her covers and lumber to her feet. She was relieved to discover she was finally able to put some proper weight on her leg. The wound still hurt like hell, granted, but it wasn’t anything painkillers couldn’t make bearable.

Within five minutes she was dressed and pinching crisp bread from the toaster. She shuffled them onto plates alongside the pair of steaming mugs of coffee she had placed upon the table nearby. 

The distraction did the trick. While a lingering feeling of dread still weighted her belly and ghosted the back of her mind, she at least found enough calm to function.

“You up, Kassidy Gael?” 

The sound of a chair being pulled from the table seemed to snare Chibs’s attention from the other room. Kassidy had a seat, wrestling open her filched bottle of oxycontin.

“Aye, just.”

“Pants it is, then,” he teased.

Kass blinked owlishly at the closed door for a moment, before shaking her head.

“How chivalrous,” she guffed dryly, just as that door swung open. 

Pants seemed the extent of clothing that Chibs cared to bother with so early in the AM. Jeans rode low upon his hips and a freshly lit cigarette dangled lazily from his lips as he lumbered into the room. He spotted the mug of coffee waiting for him and wandered over to claim it.

Kassidy felt a blush needle her cheeks over the sudden presence of the half-naked fellow, before clearing her throat and hastily diverting her attention to rifling peanut butter from its jar, “‘Mornin’.”

“‘Mornin’.”

Chibs seemed to have caught Kassidy’s deer-in-the-headlights expression before she did, and chuckled as he took a pull from his mug. When the bemused eyeball he was giving her didn’t let up, Kassidy pursed her lips and shot him a quick, sidelong glance.

“Does that hurt as bad as it looks?” 

Chibs glanced down. Amongst his motley array of black-ink tattoos, a violent swath of blue and purple was flowering across his right side, where Derek hand smashed a boot to his ribs. 

He shrugged, “Had worse.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Kass said. She was on her feet and rifling through the refrigerator behind him within moments, “Still, y’really should ice that.”

“Aaahh,” he replied absently as he exhaled smoke, “Unless somethin’s actually broken, I can’t much be bothered wi--- FUCK!” 

Chibs jumped, coffee sloshing around in his grasp as a slim hand suddenly reached around and, without any warning whatsoever, pressed an ice cold can of soda to his side. Kassidy snickered and wrestled his free hand over the can to keep it flush with his injury, before catching his gaze. For a split second, her belly somersaulted - the Scot looked ready to smack her one. The mischievousness of the grin she shot him, however, wrangled a puckish smile of his own out of him instead.

“Cheeky wee shite,” he insisted.

“You’re the one who conveniently lost his shirt, boyo,” Kassidy sassed. She was quick to re-man her peanut butter toast efforts in her seat, in spite of the spilled coffee that now dripped from the tabletop. 

“So, it begs askin’,” she piped up after a while, pressing a properly decked out piece of toast onto Chibs’s plate. He had abandoned his coffee and soda can alike long enough to grab a shirt from his bag, “The Reaper n’ anarchy tattoos I get, but… is that a _dollar bill?_ ”

“A million dollar note, darlin’,” he mused, before pulling a tank top over his head, “As in ‘Fuck you. Pay me.”

“Ah,” she wrinkled her nose in bemusement, “ _Naturally_. So then, how---”

The rattle and hum of a ringing burner suddenly made the pair of them freeze, sharing glances. Temples twitching, Chibs strode to rifle through his jacket in search of his phone, while Kassidy watched him, brows creased. Something about that sound - that simple vibration - now put her completely on edge. The last time she’d heard it had been to the sight of a man she’d killed, after all.

“Yeah, brother.”

There was a brief moment of hopeful calm as Chibs answered the line, clearly recognizing the number. That calm died the second he looked up, catching Kassidy’s gaze. He looked genuinely unnerved.

“Pitch the food,” he said, suddenly surging past Kassidy.

“What? Why--”

“ _Move!_ ”

Kassidy scrambled to gather everything upon the table - plates and all. The moment she had them in the waste bin, Chibs shoved her rucksack and boots into her arms. Jacket on, travel pack over his own shoulder, cramming feet into boots as he went, he yanked the glock he’d stowed in the back of his belt and beelined for the door. A second later still, he had frozen, listening close.

They both heard it at once - gruff voices from ground level, and hasty footsteps upon stairs. Kassidy suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Chibs backpedaled from the door, practically dragging Kass with him. She watched as he skirt gruff hands along the seams of one of the gypsum panels that made the wall behind the sofa bed. The panel yanked loose. A second later, Kassidy was shoved unceremoniously - rucksack and all - into the narrow, dusty space behind the wall, scrambling to make room for Chibs, who stepped in immediately thereafter. He fussed frantically to re-secure the panel behind them with the sound of footfalls barreling up the narrow fourth floor stairwell thrumming in their ears.

It took everything in Kassidy not to yelp at the violent crash as the front door was kicked in, rattling the wall and raining dust from the ceiling. She clapped white knuckled hands over her mouth. Chibs stood, tense as a bow about to snap, one hand steadying his glock, the other reaching Kassidy’s way as though ready to snatch her at a moment’s behest.

“Check the other room,” a low voice barked amidst the pair of bodies that shuffled around the small apartment. The bathroom door was pushed wide. Furniture was upturned and pushed over. Kassidy willed herself still despite trembling limbs that wanted to jerk bodily at every loud crash and scuffle. 

“Shit,” a man swore, “Phone Jimmy-O. If they were here, they’re not anymore.”

“Y’think the lead was bad?”

“Do _you_ think that weasel-fuck McCraig is capable of tellin’ the truth? Just fuckin’ put in the call.”

“Aye.”

Kassidy swallowed hard, eyes drifting to watch Chibs. She caught the exact moment that he heard the noise - the ominous click of a firearm.

This time, Kassidy wasn’t able to stifle the yelp of fright that escaped her. Fortunately, the thunderous clamor of gunfire and the hand Chibs clapped over her mouth drowned it out. She found herself yanked to the floor impossibly fast, the Scotsman covering her against the hail of gunfire that peppered the wall above them, where they’d been standing all of seconds prior.

They lie stock still, pinholes of light piercing the crawl space and dust from the upheaval floating all around. Neither so much as breathed.

“There’s another lead uptown,” one of the men noted, alongside the sound of a phone clipping shut. The intruders made for the stairs.

The destruction of Eli McCraig’s dingy apartment wall, it seemed, had simply been for good measure.

Only once it was evident both intruders had left the building did Chibs finally dislodge the hand clamped over Kassidy’s mouth. He let himself collapse limply to his side - even though it meant Kassidy got a bit squished in the process.

“Well,” he deadpanned, coughing against the dust that hung thickly in the air, “That was fun.”

Still trembling with adrenaline, all Kassidy could do was groan.


	8. Fuzzy Pink Dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs and Kassidy add grand theft auto to their growing list of Belfast blunders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Scots & Ire:** Breaking Belfast  
>  **Part 8:** Fuzzy Pink Dice  
>  **Canon Characters:** Chibs Telford  
>  **Word Count:** 1,318  
>  **Synopsis:** Chibs and Kassidy add grand theft auto to their growing list of Belfast blunders.  
>  **Rating:** M  
>  **Warnings:** Language, Crude Humor.  
>  **Writer’s Notes:** And with this bit of silly humor, you guys are caught up with what I've written so far. Apologies for the wait for additional installments so far - the holiday season has gobbled up all my free time. I’m hoping to make progress on writing part 9 (Tentatively titled “The Travelers”) soon. Thanks for stickin’ with me and my newbie writing (especially to those who've left comments/feedback, as that lends a great deal of encouragement to continue) and I hope everyone's having a safe and happy holiday.

“What about the bike?” Kassidy asked.

She hovered awkwardly near the motorcycle Chibs strolled past the moment they stepped into the sopping gray alleyway outside.

“Fuck the bike,” Chibs replied. He continued on briskly, his companion having little choice but to sprint to catch up, “If we take that now, we may as well be ridin’ with a goddamn target on our backs. We’ll find somethin' else - there's a parking garage up the way.” 

“By the market,” Kass confirmed, “Aye, I know the one.” 

The lanky Scotsman was tricky to keep pace with while such determination drove his stride. Much as she had nights previous, Kassidy found two steps to his every one barely sufficient in keeping her by his side. The ache in her wounded leg served as a relentless reminder of why they needed to hoof it to begin with.

Kassidy squint against the chilly rain and flippant breeze. Her sidelong glance watched as Telford rifled through his jacket, retrieving and pulling on a black beanie cap and leather gloves. All the while, worry needled her thoughts.

“Mister McCraig… is he--?” 

“Still breathin’, far as I know,” Chibs assured, “And I'm aimin’ to keep it that way. Won't be contactin’ him again until we’re in the States... and we sure as fuck can't be handin’ Jimmy any proof he’s given us a leg up in the meantime. Not with TIRA holed up in his goddamn living room.”

“In his--” Kass stammered, “How the right fuck did he manage to call you without them noticing, if they're practically sittin’ on him at home?”

“He didn't,” Chibs said. He hooked an arm around Kassidy's shoulders to steer the pair of them around the corner, “Darcy did. Kid hopped out a fuckin’ window and high tailed it with her old man’s phone soon as Jimmy’s boys showed up.” 

“Well, then,” Kass admitted, “Smart kid.”

“Always has been. Just like her da.”

Early as it was in the AM, the nearest parking garage lie largely vacant. At Chibs’s behest, the pair of them split up, casing what few cars were available, and taking note of where those cars sat beneath the watchful vigilance of aging security cams.

They soon found themselves flanking the same jalopy of a Honda Accord on the second floor. Kass hovered by the passenger’s side door, neck craning as she kept watch for prying eyes, while Chibs pulled a slim jim from his jacket, and made quick work of wrangling it past the window’s seal.

“Best let me wire it once we’re in,” Kassidy offered flippantly, “Pretty certain I can work ‘round you well enough.”

Her watchful gaze over the surrounding garage faltered when she realized Chibs’ efforts to jimmy the door had gone still. She looked over to find him watching her with a bemused glint in his eyes.

“Come again?”

“Well it’ll certainly look less suspicious then you hangin’ your narrow Scottish arse out the door while you try and fire it up on your own, will it not? You’re not exactly a small fella,” she mused. When he remained silent, quirking an eyebrow at her, Kassidy pulled a face, “... What?”

“You,” he mused curiously, eyeballing the girl from over the roof of the car, “... know how to hotwire a car.”

“Why, I _do_ , laddie,” she teased with a smirk.

“ _Oh-ho_ ,” Chibs suddenly looked downright delighted, “You are going t’be a _fun one_ , Kassidy Gael.”

He yanked the steel in his grasp, springing loose the driver’s side lock as Kassidy flashed him a winner of a grin. The moment he triggered the automatic locks, the pair of them hopped inside, clapping doors shut in their wakes.

“Oh, _Jesus Christ_ ,” Chibs was quick to grouse.

“Oh…” Even Kassidy had to take pause, glancing around the car’s interior, “Oh, wow. That is bad.”

The pair of them were suddenly swimming in violent shades of fuchsia and neon leopard print. Seat covers, floor mats and a plush pink steering wheel cover were emblazoned with “Princess” in shimmering, cursive glitter. Fuzzy pink dice swung in the mirror. The scene was made all the more ridiculous by the scarred, tattooed biker who sat dumbfounded, looking for a moment as though he’d accidentally slipped into the eighth circle of hell.

“Do we or do we not know how to pick ‘em?” Kass stifled a laugh. She was quick to squirrel herself over and down enough to reach beneath the counsel in front of Chibs, and extract a bundle of wires. 

“Relax, boyo. Your masculinity’s intact,” she teased absently as she worked with an apparent degree of experience, “If anyone strolls by, they’re just gonna think you’re gettin’ a hummer from a pretty girl.”

Chibs barked a laugh, and ducked to light a cigarette, “Fair enough.”

He crowed a moment later as the engine fired to life, “ _Atta girl!_ ” 

His satisfaction was short lived, however. By the time Kass sat upright again, fussing her hair back into some semblance of control, the car stereo had flared to life.

“Oh, absolutely not,” he spat. The pair of them were immediately fussing with the controls, “What the fuck _is_ this?”

“Justin Bieber,” Kassidy groused, “Of course it’s fuckin’ Bieber - Hold on, I think it’s a CD.” 

As Chibs kicked the car into gear and twisted around to back them from their parking space, Kass jammed the eject button before tossing the CD unceremoniously to the floor.

“Not going t’keep it n’ swoon?” Chibs teased. He clipped the turn signal, cracked a window for his smoke, and sent them coasting out of the garage.

“Oi, fuck you,” she pulled a face, “Absolutely not.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her apparent offense, before needling, “All right, then. Not Bieber. So, what’s your poison?”

Kassidy shrugged, “Rival Sons. Royal Blood. Bit o’ Ray LaMontagne and Hozier on the side. That sort of ilk.”

“Not familiar.”

“Well, you should be,” she insisted, settling back into her seat, “They’re fuckin’ fantastic.”

They were an hour out of Belfast before Chibs thought it far enough to risk pulling over and letting the pair of them get some air. Parked between a hedgerow of ratty trees and a ditch on a muddy, unnamed dirt road, Kassidy fussed with the radio as a glance up caught sight of Chibs returning from the hedges to take a leak. 

He’d been fussing with his burner for the better part of twenty minutes, walking around outside, cursing.

“Reception’s fuckin’ terrible,” he growled and he hefted back into the car, pressing redial for the umpteenth time.

“I’m not surprised,” Kass shrugged, giving up on her quest to find them some decent music, and leaning back once more, “We’re practically---” She fell quiet as Chibs suddenly raised a hand.

“Keagan!” he said, looking eager with finally making contact, “Change o’ plans. What’s the chance of you cuttin’ out and headin’ for Rosslea in the next twenty?”

Kass quirked an eyebrow. While she couldn’t make out a word of what was said on the other end of the line, the tone of brash irritation it carried was evident. To it, Chibs mustered a casually unsurprised, lopsided grin, “Aye, well, you tell that to Jimmy-O, for kickin’ down Eli’s door at sunup… No, no... _Relax_ \- I spoke to Darcy. He’s still tickin’.” 

Chibs nudged Kassidy with an elbow, before motioning to the car’s dash with a nod as he listened to Keagan chatter on. She ducked to tackle the hotwire once more.

“Two hours, then?” Chibs confirmed just as the engine sparked back to life, “Aye. See you then.”

Kassidy cast him a glance, “We good?”

The Scotsman went oddly silent. He exhaled smoke, tapping ash out of his cracked window. Suddenly, the automatic window beside Kassidy began rolling open wide. Without a word, Chibs ripped the fluffy pink dice from the mirror. He chucked them clear out of her window and into the ditch beside the car, before rolling the window back up and hitting the gas, as though nothing had happened at all.

“Now we’re good.”


End file.
